Unwanted Rings
by dna2000
Summary: Modern AU. Matthew and Mary encounter each other at a high-profile event, mere days after their relationship changed irrevocably. I don't want to give too much away! Now a multi-chapter fic. Rated M to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: this is a random idea that suddenly made itself known this morning, and I ended up writing this. I'm not entirely sure what I make of it myself- so do let me know what you make of it!_

…

Matthew subconsciously swirled the champagne around in his glass as he looked around the gallery. While he enjoyed art, black-tie exhibitions in expensive West London hotels with a horde of attention-seeking socialites in attendance weren't exactly his preferred mode of appreciating paintings. Still, the hotel was a client of his firm's and he was only doing his duty by turning up. Plus, there was a free dinner…and other attractions.

He slowly meandered through the large room, grinning amusedly to himself at the fragments of pretentious conversations he overheard as he did so. Most of these people had no idea what they were talking about, but were gifted with the confidence that ignorance brings.

His smile faltered as his eyes fell on her.

She was like a jewel in the room. How hadn't he noticed her sooner? Her petite, yet curvaceous, frame was draped in the most beautiful gown he'd ever seen. He almost laughed to himself- _of course _she would be dressed in the finest dress that London fashion had to offer. Her taste was exquisite; and unparalleled, as evidenced by the small group of photographers encircling her wherever she moved to. The whitish-silver silk of the gown was covered in tiny beads of the same colour, catching the light in just the right way and illuminating the room.

Matthew's eyes darkened as he noticed the thin, string-like straps, precariously resting on her shoulders; he thought of how little effort it would take to nudge them off, and slide them down her arms… He took in the way the material skimmed across her breasts, revealing just enough to whet his appetite. His eyes settled upon her hair, styled in loose but neat waves, practically inviting him to run his hands through it- and the memory of her hair splayed on his pillow as her head rolling around in ecstasy invaded his mind.

He turned his attention to the painting nearest to him and sipped his champagne, in an attempt to dampen the feelings burning inside of him.

…

Mary smiled politely as the clicks of cameras echoed around her. They were obviously expecting her to stop and pose, but she hoped that by pretending to intently examine the artwork in front of her, they'd take a hint and focus on Prince William's second cousin- or whoever that girl in the ludicrous mini-tiara was. Apparently, however, even a side-profile of her was preferable to a full-on snap of Lady Alicia, and the cameras continued.

Mary turned so that her back was to the photographers, sighing as she realised she'd just given them a new view of her one-of-a-kind Alexander McQueen.

All annoyance dissipated at the sight of him. She hadn't been sure he'd turn up. It wasn't really his scene, to begin with. And then there was the issue of…them. Things had grown a little complicated recently. Did he come to see her? She doubted it. He wouldn't have chosen such a public place to see her for the first time since last week- he'd come out of duty to his work. That's all.

Still, she couldn't help her mind wander as her eyes raked over him. The first thing she noticed was that his tie was askew and the knot was far too tight. She laughed inwardly- he hadn't been formally taught how to tie a proper knot, as all the other men here had. But then her mind took her back to last week, and conjured up the memory of her removing it from his neck as he kissed her, and all that it had led to, for the first time. Her eyes travelled down- registering how well his crisp white shirt clung to his lean body- before settling on his belt, and she wondered whether this one would be as difficult to unfasten as the brown one had been.

She watched him raise his glass to his mouth as he read one of the captions next to a sculpture. Her heart fell as she saw the glint of light coming from his hand- from the ring that somebody else had placed on his finger.

…

Matthew peered over after a few minutes, only to find that she was no longer there. He looked around quickly, mildly panicked. She couldn't have left.

He perused the room until he finally spotted her in the corner, perched on a stool, surreptitiously scrolling through the phone which she should have turned off at the beginning of the evening, in accordance with the requests of the hosts. Matthew grinned as he felt a surge of affection at her naughtiness.

"I'd be careful if I were you. They might kick you out."

Mary's head shot up at the sudden sound of his voice, the actual words registering only moments later. She smirked as she realised what he meant. "Well they can't expect me to resist checking Twitter every once in a while if they're going to lock me in a room full of dullards."

"What are you talking about?" Matthew feigned disbelief. "I just heard someone class Picasso as an Impressionist. I defy you to find this level of insight and expertise anywhere else." He joked, even as he tried to remember what it was like to catch the soft skin of her cleavage between his teeth.

Mary giggled happily, and he cherished the sound- it being one that only he was able to produce. "I've obviously been remiss in doing the rounds. Although it would be difficult, anyway, with all these stupid photogs chasing me around."

"Poor Mary." Matthew tutted mockingly. "It must be so difficult having to endure glamorous event after glamorous event. Maybe you should be glad that you're getting so much coverage for your family." He baited.

"Are _you_ glad that your firm sent you here to schmooze your client?" Mary challenged.

"I am now." Matthew answered without hesitation, his voice suddenly low.

Mary's breath hitched at the intensity with which those blue eyes were staring at her. She dropped her gaze, to somewhere around his right shoulder, hoping to allay the tension building between them. It was futile, however- she could still _feel_ him looking at her, she could feel heat travelling over her as his eyes did. Her fingers gripped the stool as she felt the heat travel down her chest, beneath her dress…

Swallowing hard, she glanced around, making sure that nobody else was aware of what was silently passing between them.

Suddenly feeling bold, she looked up at him again, eyes twinkling. "Your tie's crooked."

Matthew's expression hardened as he tried to suppress the inappropriate feelings bursting through him. He was immediately transported back to last Wednesday, to his hotel room and his complaints about his tie that had sparked the most passionate night of his life. He remembered the way her fingers had curled around the knot to loosen it, touching him but not touching him, a slight smile playing on her lips.

He saw that she wore a similar smile now, although more knowing.

"You said that on purpose." It wasn't an accusation- he was stating a fact. The desire inside him grew more intense as he realised that she'd _wanted_ him to remember that night, to remember what they did.

"Of course I said it on purpose. I didn't think you'd want to look sloppy amongst everybody else here." Mary said matter-of-factly, but the spark in her eyes betrayed her.

Matthew didn't reply- he wasn't interested in this torturous banter anymore. Not when he could practically feel her neck under his lips, feel her skin under his fingers as he slipped his hands under her clothes…

"Have you been here before?" He asked abruptly, determinedly.

Mary was momentarily taken aback. "Erm, yes, once or twice. We hired out this wing for a conference a few months ago."

"Was there security?"

"What?" Mary was perplexed at this line of questioning.

"Around this wing- were there any staff or security patrolling?" Matthew's voice was low but urgent.

"Places like this don't tend to have men with guns roaming around, Matthew." Mary said drolly. "Why?"

Matthew didn't respond. He placed his empty champagne flute on the nearby table and reached into his pocket, pulling out an iPhone and switching it on. "Keep your phone on." He said as he strode away, out of the room.

…

_Go out of the door next to the painting of the woman with the green eyes, turn left and walk down until you get to the fifth door on the right. _

It had been ten minutes since Matthew left the room when Mary received this text. In that time she'd been roped into a conversation with a television producer and the fashion editor of Harper's Bazaar, concocting vile plans for a new reality show. Making her excuses, she slipped out of the required exit as discreetly as possible, checking that there were indeed no staff loitering around as she hurriedly followed the directions.

She knocked once on the small oak door. It opened to reveal a very dimly-lit room, with Matthew pulling her in.

She found herself pressed up against the door as it closed, Matthew's strong body keeping her firmly in place as his lips captured hers. She immediately opened her mouth to him, moaning as he alternated between biting and nibbling and kissing and sucking. Her arms were around his neck, his hair bunched into her fists.

"Matthew." She whimpered as his mouth placed wet kisses down her neck and shoulder, his nose nudging the strap of her gown away so that it fell down her arm, just as he'd imagined. "Is _this_ why you brought me here?"

Matthew ceased his attentions to look up at her, and she took the opportunity to cradle his beautiful face in her hands, appreciating how soft his cleanly-shaven jaw was. "You thought I'd brought you here to talk some more?" Matthew asked incredulously, and she smiled sweetly at the way his brow furrowed in disbelief, at how he thought it was obvious that all he wanted to do was kiss her, at how he looked at her adoringly even when he thought she was being stupid.

Mary reached forward to kiss him again, her hands running down his neck until they settled on his tie, trying to focus on loosening it as she revelled in the feel of Matthew's tongue on hers and his hands massaging the exposed area of her back. This was all the encouragement Matthew needed- he walked backwards towards the plush sofa in the middle of the room, wondering at how somebody could fit so perfectly in his arms, as Mary marvelled at how a man could make her feel so safe.

They made their way to the couch, as one, their subconscious minds desperately trying to capture every moment, every movement. Shedding their clothes as hastily as they could without causing damage. Laying down together, having to feel their way because their eyes were closed as they both lost themselves in their kiss. Feeling and touching and stroking, memorising each other's bodies. Breaking apart so they could see each other as they connected. Moving together, cursing and clutching and panting as they sought some way to release the unprecedented passion within them. Encouraging and quickening, wanting to bring each other to climax more than themselves. Savouring each other's sighs and moans, the way Mary's back arched and pressed her body into his, how Matthew's hands were so gentle yet scorched the skin they touched. How fierce and powerful those moments of bliss were as they peaked.

Mary allowed Matthew, and herself, a few minutes to relax before gently tugging his head up by his hair. She already missed admiring his handsomeness. Matthew took in her appearance, rosy and beautiful, and leaned down to kiss her lips. Mary felt like she could cry with happiness.

"Matthew, I-" She began too hastily, without thinking. It wasn't right to say those words. She stopped herself, her eyes dropping downwards as she distractedly ran her finger along the small shaving cuts on his neck.

Matthew's heart clenched as he watched her, her unsaid words more potent than any words he ever did hear. He kissed the tip of her nose tenderly. "Mary, I do too." He smiled as her eyes darted up to meet his in surprise.

Mary caressed his jaw and chin with her left hand, and Matthew dipped his head so he could kiss it, each finger reminding him of a moment they'd shared. He kissed the pad of her thumb, which had stroked his cheek as they'd kissed; her index finger, which had guided his own in between her legs, nine nights ago; her middle finger, which had dug into his back as they'd climaxed, leaving the greatest scar of all; her fourth finger, which…had two rings on it.

Matthew paused and looked up at Mary. Her eyes were wet, but she didn't let any tears fall. Neither of them said anything aloud- as was so often the case with them, they didn't need words to convey their meaning, everything was said through looks alone. _If only we'd met sooner. If only I hadn't married the wrong person. If only we were allowed to be in love_.

…

_A/N: I realise the whole 'affair' thing is a bit controversial, but I hope it came across that they're not just having a bit of fun on the side. Please review, as I'm genuinely unsure what I think about this! xx_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: I decided to make this a multi-chapter fic in response to the feedback I got (which I'm very thankful for, by the way!). So the next few chapters jump back in time– this chapter starts with M&M's first meeting, and I'll go through chronologically until we get to the events of ch.1, then I'll carry on from there. I hope that makes sense…_

…

"Matthew!"

Matthew Crawley turned in the direction of the familiar voices calling his name. Spotting his friends– strategically situated near the canapé table, of course– he moved out of the doorway and walked towards them, picking up a glass of wine on his way.

"What took you so long to get here, mate?" James asked, clapping Matthew on the back as he reached the small group.

"Sorry, was just revising a due diligence report and it was never-ending." Matthew replied, slightly out of breath from his rush across London.

"Well, I'm glad you're here now," a beaming Charlie began enthusiastically, "the four musketeers are finally together again!" He attempted to wrap his arms around his three friends to form some kind of awkward group hug.

"Seriously, Charlie, stop calling us that. It's not going to catch on." Tariq looked over his shoulders discreetly before straightening out his blazer, making sure the group of pretty girls he'd noticed earlier hadn't witnessed that rather embarrassing and un-masculine incident.

"It _is_ good to see you guys again. Maybe they should make this an annual thing." Matthew stated, glancing around the large function room.

The four friends had reunited at a university alumni event. Their busy lives meant that they'd hardly seen each other in the five years since graduating from their management Masters course at Cambridge, but the reunion– along with its free food and drink– provided a welcome opportunity for them to catch up.

"By the way, what are you all doing after this? You're welcome to stay at mine if you like, I'm sure Sophie won't mind." Matthew offered, aware that the other young men had travelled from various parts of the country to attend the event.

"Oh, thanks, man." James smiled gratefully. "That'd be really helpful, we were going to crash in a Travelodge. As for what we're doing after this– eagle-eyed Tariq here spotted that there's some sort of modelling convention going on in one of the other function rooms." James raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"A modelling convention? What do they do?" Charlie asked, puzzled by the concept.

"It doesn't matter what they _do_, does it?" Tariq asked frustratedly. "The fact is there's a gaggle of tall, beautiful women down the corridor and we're single, highly eligible young males. Well, aside from Crawley, but he's always good at attracting women over. I say we take our free booze and ditch this joint in about an hour."

"And do what, exactly?" Matthew enquired, ever the voice of reason. "They're not really going to let us in to the room full of models without checking if we're on the guestlist, are they?"

"Yeah, and we don't really look like models." Charlie added, gazing down at his un-ironed shirt and scuffed shoes.

"Speak for yourselves." Tariq mumbled, needlessly smoothing his perfectly-coiffed hair.

"Well, whatever we do later, we certainly can't leave in an hour." James reminded them. "Dinner's in half an hour and then Robert will be giving his speech."

Robert Crawley, the organiser of the reunion, had been the quartet's main supervisor during their time on the management course. With over thirty years of experience in the business world, running one of the country's oldest and most successful department stores and having recently branched out into the entertainment industry, he was widely admired by all who encountered him. The boys in particular had appreciated his down-to-earth manner and relatively gentle approach– given his wealth and status, it was a privilege to even be taught by him, but for him to take a genuine interest in their studies and careers was a real honour.

"I should probably say 'hello' to him before dinner, actually." Matthew said as he perused the room for his mentor. Robert had taken a special liking to the young, blue-eyed boy who shared his surname, and Matthew had been more than happy to let himself be taken under his wing. The two had remained in touch over the last five years, with Robert keen to hear about Matthew's progress in his career. "I'll go and look for him." Matthew announced, stepping away from the group.

Having checked the far end of the room with no sign of Robert, Matthew walked back towards the door, occasionally smiling at the familiar faces he passed by. Across the room, he saw another old friend beckoning him over for a chat. Raising his hand to indicate that he'd be over in a minute, he felt his elbow bump into something. Or rather, someone.

"Oh, goodness, sorry." He apologised as he turned to see who he'd accidentally nudged. His eyes settled on his unintended victim and immediately widened. She was beautiful. Her dark, silken hair was tousled around her shoulders, competing for attention with her perfectly glossed lips. Her slim body and flawless skin was encased in a clingy, navy blue cocktail dress, with a bit of fringing detail around the bust, amplifying her already noticeable bosom. She was clearly a model.

"No problem." The model replied casually, looking around the room with a slight frown. "Do you happen to know where-?"

"It's down the corridor, I believe." Matthew answered pre-emptively. She must have been seeking the modelling convention but had accidentally stumbled into the reunion.

"I'm sorry?" She replied, confused.

"You're in the wrong room." Matthew clarified helpfully. "This is a Cambridge alumni event." He smiled.

Strangely, the model looked rather affronted. "I'm in the 'wrong room'?" She asked, but the question sounded rhetorical.

"Yes…the modelling convention is in another room." Matthew answered slowly, wondering what he'd said wrong.

"Modelling convention?" She laughed humourlessly.

"Aren't you…?" Matthew began quietly, sensing his assumption about her had been quite erroneous.

"You presume that because I'm not wearing some hideous, frumpy trouser-suit I couldn't _possibly_ have gone to Cambridge?" The anger in her eyes and voice was evident.

Matthew merely stood there with his mouth open, unsure of what to say, or how to apologise to this obviously offended woman. He saw her raise an eyebrow at him, telling him to hurry up and say something, but whatever grovelling apology was about to tumble out of his mouth was halted by Robert's sudden appearance.

"Matthew, Mary!"

Matthew felt the older man put an arm around his shoulders, and watched in bemusement as he leaned to kiss the offended woman on the cheek. As far as he knew, Robert never kissed his female students…

"I was starting to worry that neither of you would arrive." Robert looked between the two of them. "I see you've met my daughter." He smiled at the younger man.

Matthew's insides crumpled up in shame. He was sure that his face was physically cringing. He'd just insulted Robert Crawley's daughter! He nervously looked towards her, hoping she'd see the remorse written on his face.

"Yes, we met briefly." The woman, whose name was apparently Mary, replied. She was still staring at him coldly. "I'm going to go and get a drink." She declared, promptly leaving the two men behind her.

Robert chuckled as he watched her walk away. "She can be a bit abrupt at times, if she's in a bad mood. I hope she wasn't too rude to you."

Matthew finally found his voice. "No…on the contrary, actually. I think I may have offended her." He said regretfully.

"No, no, I'm sure it was nothing. She probably just had a hard day at work." Robert smiled warmly, seeing that Matthew was worried. "She's helping us with the rebranding of Crawley's at the moment."

Matthew nodded in recognition. Robert had mentioned that his daughter was assisting the re-styling of the department store ahead of its one-hundredth anniversary. "Oh yes, I take it she's your eldest daughter, then?"

"Yes, that's right. As a matter of fact, it's just been confirmed that she'll be the face of our women's department, in the new campaign." Robert explained proudly. "We were presented with lots of other contenders, but then Mary said she was interested and I thought who better to represent the store than my own daughter?"

"She's lucky to have a father like you." Matthew smiled, but he felt rather resentful. It seemed quite unfair that she could secure a prominent position in a large company like Robert's at the click of her fingers, when people like Matthew had to live off of loans and struggle to make ends meet, all in pursuit of fulfilling their ambitions.

"Try telling her that." Robert joked drily. "Anyway, Matthew, I was intrigued by what you said in your last email and I wanted to speak with you about it..."

…

Mary drizzled the vinaigrette over her salad, her head raising slightly as she heard the front door open and shut.

"Mary?" She heard her name called.

"Kitchen." She called back, retrieving a fork from one of the drawers. "Hi." She greeted her husband with a polite smile as he entered the kitchen, before wrinkling her nose at the sight of his filthy rugby kit and the mud he'd brought in with him.

"I brought someone back with me." Ashley explained as he reached inside the fridge for a bottle of cool water.

"You know this isn't that kind of marriage." Mary said wryly, settling herself down at the kitchen table.

"He just joined the team today," her husband continued, breezing over her joke, "poor guy locked himself out of his house so I said he could wait here until his wife gets home."

"Oh, OK. Where is he?" Mary peered through the doorway.

"He's removing his shoes." Ashley replied as he walked out of the kitchen.

"Well I'm glad _someone_ thought to do so." Mary hinted light-heartedly, only to be met with silence. Moments later, she heard two pairs of footsteps approaching.

"Do you want some lunch?" She heard Ash offer.

"No, don't worry, I'll eat when I-"

Curious as to why the voice stopped speaking mid-sentence, Mary turned around in her seat. Her expression of mild intrigue quickly descended into one of unpleasant surprise as she saw that the guest in her house was none other than the pompous blonde man at the Cambridge reunion. He, too, was apparently rather shocked to see her there– he was wearing a similar deer-in-the-headlights expression to the one he wore after he'd insulted her.

Ashley, ignorant of their brief encounter, looked between the two of them bemusedly. "Everything alright?" He asked nobody in particular.

"Yes, fine." Mary said, standing up and taking her plate with her. "If you'll excuse me," she addressed Matthew with the faux-politeness which she'd polished off during her teenage years, "I have a modelling convention to attend." And with that, she was gone.

An hour or so later, Mary heard a soft knock on the door of her study. Knowing it wouldn't be Ashley, as he never knocked, she considered ignoring it, but the manners which her mother and grandmother had ingrained in her from a young age prevailed, and she beckoned Matthew in.

"Hi." He said sheepishly as he stood in the doorway. Mary merely looked up at him expectantly, her expression unreadable. "Ashley had to step out to run an errand for his father." He explained.

"And you felt you needed another chaperone?" Mary asked drily. "I know you have your faults but I do trust you to be left alone without stealing anything." She actively bathed her words in sarcasm.

Matthew couldn't help but smile– he knew she was deliberately being rude, but he found her rather witty. Realising she wouldn't appreciate him grinning at her rebukes, he turned more serious. "Actually, I came to apologise…about what I said to you at the reunion. It was pretty obnoxious of me. I'm sorry if I offended you." He said sincerely. "Well, I _know_ that I offended you, and I'm sorry. "

Mary kept her eyes trained on her laptop as he spoke but the sincerity in his voice caught her attention. She never knew apologies could be so genuine! Turning to him, she nodded her acceptance. "Thank you for that."

Matthew shrugged boyishly. "Don't thank me– you deserved an apology. I'm not usually pig-headed, trust me." He laughed lightly.

"I'll have to take your word for it, won't I?" Mary raised an eyebrow as she turned her laptop off. "Can I offer you anything to eat?" She said, her social etiquette training once again overriding her disinterest in her house-guest.

"Thanks, but no. My wife should be home soon so I'll eat when I go back. Although, if it's not too much trouble, could I have a cup of tea?" He asked timidly. This whole situation was rather awkward for him– being driven back to the house of a man whom he'd only just met, only to find said man's wife was a woman who he'd offended the week before and the daughter of his former tutor. He felt like asking for nourishment would be too big of an imposition on their lives.

"Of course, follow me." Mary got up and strode out of the room and down the stairs, Matthew trailing behind her.

"Rugby always leaves me rather parched and in need of some tea." Matthew said light-heartedly as they entered the kitchen.

"I'm surprised you have time for rugby, what with your full-time job in the City and your plans to become a theatre-director." Mary remarked, much to Matthew's surprise.

"How do you know about that?"

Mary glanced up at him as she switched the kettle on. "Are you forgetting that your career guru is my father? He mentions his former students to me sometimes." She explained. "He talks about _you_ rather a lot, actually. It seems you're one of his favourites."

"Oh, he's been very kind to me." Matthew glanced at the floor modestly. "He actually told me a bit about your work for Crawley's– congratulations, it sounds like it's all going well." He smiled.

"Thanks…I'm not sure how great it is to work so closely with my father in the family business, but thanks." Mary smiled slightly as she rummaged through the cupboard to find a mug.

"What do you mean?" Matthew was unable to see why working with Robert could be anything less than a fabulous opportunity, whether you were related to him or not.

"Can you honestly tell me you'd enjoy working directly with your father, day-in, day-out?" Mary asked incredulously. "I'm willing to bet that you wouldn't."

Her attitude was beginning to grate on Matthew– she apparently didn't realise how lucky she was. "Actually, my father passed away when I was very young." He said firmly, hoping to inject a sense of perspective into her.

Mary immediately stopped what she was doing and looked up at Matthew; he was surprised to see her looking regretful– it was the first genuine emotion he'd seen on her face other than anger. "I'm sorry, Matthew, I shouldn't have presumed-" Mary stopped herself and scoffed. "It seems I've done the very thing that I was mad at you for." She smiled at him. "I am sorry." Being innately proud, she was never one to express contrition about any of her words or actions ; but, having just received such an honest apology from Matthew, she felt she could be unguarded in bestowing one on him.

"Don't worry, you couldn't have known." Matthew replied with a smile, relieved to see that beneath her uptight exterior lay some compassion.

"So, what's all this about abandoning law for the theatre?" Mary asked a few minutes later. They were both sat at the kitchen table, clutching large mugs of tea with a small dish of biscuits laid out in front of them. She smiled inwardly when she saw Matthew's eyes instantly brighten. It was clearly a topic he enjoyed discussing.

"Well, I've been considering it for a while– I did a law undergraduate degree and then the management Masters, as you know, but I've always loved drama." He explained enthusiastically. "I was always in school plays, and then at university I moved into stage-managing and directing. I produced a couple of plays, too, although with the demands of my degree it was quite difficult to juggle it all."

"Hmm, I can imagine." Mary nodded, dunking a hob-nob into her tea.

"I ended up going down the legal route because my mother was a bit antsy about the performing arts. She wanted me to do something professional, and I did genuinely have an interest in the law, too. I still do…but…I feel like, now that I'm qualified as a solicitor, I'll always have that to fall back on. And I'm still young, so it just seems like a good time to go for it."

"And what is 'it', exactly?" Mary asked, slightly confused.

"Oh, sorry." Matthew chuckled at himself. "I get a bit carried away, sometimes. Basically, there's a theatre in Shoreditch which is closing down in a few months, unless someone rescues it."

"And you want to buy it?" Mary raised her eyebrows. She didn't know much about this field, but she reckoned that theatres would be reasonably pricey.

"I'd have to get some investors in." Matthew clarified. "But I wouldn't need to worry about licences and that side of things, because it's already a fully-functioning theatre. I'd just have to take it over and produce more plays to ensure it makes enough revenue to stay afloat."

"Oh, is that 'all' you'd have to do?" Mary asked mischievously. "That sounds easy."

Matthew laughed. "I know, I know. It's quite a big task. But it's something I'm passionate about, so I wouldn't begrudge the stress and putting the work in."

"What does your wife think?" Mary asked, and Matthew began to realise that she was quite a practical woman.

Mary noticed Matthew's enthusiasm falter slightly. "Well…she's not too keen on the idea, actually." He admitted, his tone suggesting to Mary that it was quite an under-statement. "She's an actress, so she understands my motivations and my passion for it, but _because_ she's an actress it means my income is the only steady one at the moment. It is quite a big risk, I suppose."

"But like you said, you'd always have the solicitor's job to fall back on if it didn't work out. So it's not that big a risk." Mary pointed out.

"That's true." Matthew nodded in agreement as he took another sip from his mug. "Although I think some law firms may doubt my dedication to the job if they see that I've taken however many months off to try and rescue a theatre in East London." He paused, swirling the remnants of his tea around. "I think I probably will go for it, though."

"Really? Despite what your wife says?" Mary would later wonder why she was letting herself take part in such a private conversation with a man she'd only just properly met. But at the time, the dialogue flowed easily between them.

"It's my ambition. My dream, I guess." Matthew shrugged.

"Do you watch Mad Men?"

Matthew looked up sharply upon hearing her seemingly random question. "Erm…no, I don't. Why?"

"There's an episode where one of the characters, who wants to be an actress, is in bed crying about how difficult it is for her to achieve her dream. Her mother tells her, 'not every little girl gets to do what she wants– the _world_cannot support that many _ballerinas.'" Mary recalled, reciting the words carefully. "That means-"_

_"That means that the world needs cleaners and shelf-stackers and boring corporate solicitors, so most people will just have to suck it up and get on with their lives, giving up all hope of reaching their goals." Matthew interrupted._

_Mary was rather taken aback. She'd tried telling Ash, and a few of her male friends, about that scene but they'd barely been listening. "Yes…that's what it means."_

_"Is that what you really think?" Matthew challenged, suspecting that Mary was merely enjoying throwing out various arguments to counter whatever he'd just said. "Or are you just playing Devil's advocate?"_

_"It makes sense, doesn't it?" Mary replied evasively, not wanting to reveal too much about her personal opinions to him._

_"It does. But it's not always wise to base life decisions purely around logic." Having only just properly met her, Matthew didn't know how much those words struck a chord with Mary._

_"Everyone makes decisions in different ways." Mary shrugged dismissively. A conversation about life choices and the reasons behind them was not one she was willing to have. Fortunately, Matthew's phone alerted him to a message at that moment. _

_"Sophie's back home." Matthew explained as he read the text. "I'll make a move." _

_"Alright." Mary stood up at the same time as Matthew. "I'll walk you out; I need to pop to the newsagent's down the road."_

_Matthew concealed his surprise at learning that there was a newsagent's down the road; it didn't seem like there would be anything down that road but beautiful Georgian houses and gorgeous oak trees. "Thanks so much for having me over, and for the tea– I really appreciate it." He smiled as they walked out of the front door._

_"No problem. You should be thanking Ash more than me, anyway." Mary shut the door behind them._

_"Oh, that reminds me– could you give him this?" Matthew pulled a business card out of his wallet. "He said there might be a change in where rugby practice is next week so he'll give me a ring, but I forgot to give him my contact details. My mobile number's on there too."_

_"Yeah, sure." Mary took the card and placed it in her handbag. _

_"Well, I guess I'll see you around." Matthew smiled awkwardly as he walked towards his car. _

_"With the way we keep bumping into each other, you probably will." Mary remarked in, what Matthew already recognised as, that customary dry tone of hers. _

_Mary sauntered down the road, and Matthew put his keys in the ignition, both rather saddened that the most stimulating, diverting conversation they'd each had in months had come to an end. _

…

_A/N: I hope this keeps your interest! I've pretty much written the next few chapters and things get more interesting between them. I envisage that the fic will be very M/M centric i.e. other characters won't have their own storylines. As always, please let me know your thoughts! xxx_


	3. Chapter 3

_So I wanted to explain this fic a bit, to address a few reviews which were concerned about the characters' similarities to Dan Stevens/Michelle Dockery..._

_To be honest, I can't see many similarities between them. In this fic, neither of M/M are actors, they are both married and neither have children. As far as I know, none of those applies to Dan/Michelle. I think there could always be similarities between characters and the actors who play them- you could argue that Lavinia and Matthew in the series are similar to Dan and his wife because both women are red-heads, and both couples are from similar backgrounds (Lavinia's dad was a solicitor like Matthew, and I remember reading that Dan's wife's mother was an actress like Dan). I personally find the shipping of Dan/Michelle pretty weird and inappropriate, so that's most definitely not what this fic is for!_

_I've always seen Matthew as fairly expressive, sentimental and open with his emotions, compared to other characters (a quick glance at series 1 gifs on tumblr will show you an array of his facial expressions!) and I thought that modern-day Matthew would probably be quite artistic as a result. But I didn't think he'd want a career which is TOTALLY artistic so I thought theatre-director would sort of straddle business and art quite nicely. Whereas Mary, on the other hand, is much more reserved and pragmatic in the series, so I thought the business world would suit her. _

_Also, in case you're wondering, I chose the name Sophie because I wanted something sweet and young sounding (I thought of Sophie from Roald Dahl's BFG…not because I wanted it to sound like 'Susie', as was suggested) and Ashley because I just associate it with posh boys (I thought of Ashley from Gone With the Wind)!_

_But anyway, I think jobs/names etc are just circumstantial and the main point is the characters' personalities and how they interact, which is what this fic is about! All I've tried to do is bring Matthew's personality and Mary's personality into the modern day, and have them meet at a different point in their lives. It is quite a difficult thing to do, but I've been rewatching my DA DVDs over the last few days and keeping in mind what the characters are like. _

_Thankfully most of you seem to have seen what I've aimed to do, and I'm very grateful! I'm grateful for __all__ reviews, but I just felt the need to defend myself on this because a few people seemed quite angry about it._

…

Mary held her phone up to the sky, angling her head to see how many bars it now registered. Seeing that she still had no signal, she sighed, and vowed to change her network provider the minute she got home. Whenever that would be.

Her pessimism was flooded out with hope as she spotted a black-cab approach her. It returned with a vengeance, however, when she realised it was occupied. It had been almost forty minutes that she'd been stood outside– her phone told her that it was now 10.45pm. She'd found herself stuck in an unfamiliar part of London, with no local cab companies whom she could get through to and no black-cabs driving through, save that one. _Who would live somewhere like this?_ She wondered, looking around her at the rows of small terraced houses. Then, a light-bulb went off. _Matthew_.

She'd overheard Matthew mention where he lived to Ash, when he'd been at their house. He'd said he lived near The Fox pub– Mary could see that from where she was standing! But how to contact him? _His card_. Mary frantically searched through her handbag until she found it; she'd completely forgotten to pass it on to Ash, but she was grateful that she'd been so remiss. She pulled her phone out, but then paused. What exactly was she going to ask him? They barely knew each other…technically. But there was something, something inexplicable, that made Mary feel like she could rely on him– maybe it was the glowing praise about him from her father, or the fact that Ash played rugby with him…whatever it was, Mary felt he was her best bet.

The Fate Gods agreed, apparently, as they provided her with enough phone signal to make the call.

"Hello?" He answered, and she heard quite a lot of background noise.

"Hi, it's Mary. Robert Crawley's daughter." She elaborated.

"Oh, hi, Mary. Is everything alright?"

The concern in his voice made Mary feel guilty. He must have presumed something terrible had happened– why else would she be phoning him, someone she'd only really met once, at almost 11pm on a Sunday night? "I'm so sorry to bother you– everything's fine, it's just that I'm sort of stuck and I don't know how to get home…I'm on Argyll Street– I think that's near you?" She ventured shyly, not wanting to sound like she'd been stalking him.

"Yes, that's right near me. Are you outside?" Matthew asked, still concerned.

"Yeah, I'm just standing on the pavement. I don't really know where to go from here– my phone's playing up so I can't even use Google Maps. My signal might cut out any second now, actually-"

"Can you see The Fox pub from where you are?" Matthew cut her off, his voice more urgent as he realised she might get cut off.

"Yep, I can."

"OK, I'm just in the basement. Shall I come and get you?"

"No, don't worry, I'll be there in a minute." Mary began hurrying over even as she spoke and disconnected the call, wary of the group of drunken men on the other side of the road.

She entered the pub, which was now closing, but saw Matthew come up the stairs from the basement to meet her. "Hi." She smiled gratefully, humbled by how sweet he was being.

"Are you alright? What happened?" His eyes travelled over her, looking for any signs of distress.

"It's fine, really. I went for dinner with some friends a few roads away– that Indian place next to the park." Matthew nodded in recognition. "They all left and went home their separate ways, and I was going to get a cab, so I asked the waiter at the restaurant and he said there's a cab company on Bishops' Road. I followed his directions, but ended up getting lost and a bit confused." She laughed lightly, feeling terribly silly. "I stopped on Argyll Street but couldn't even remember my way back to the restaurant. The few cab places that my phone let me call either weren't picking up or had no cars available." She sighed. "And Ash is away at the moment." She added as an after-thought.

"Goodness, you must have been worried." Matthew sympathised, still frowning in concern. "There are some pretty dodgy men roaming the streets in this area."

Mary chuckled in acknowledgement. "I did get some questionable compliments shouted at me." Seeing that Matthew was about to speak, and guessing that he was going to offer something she wouldn't feel right accepting, she pre-empted him. "All I need is a cab to get home in. Could I borrow your phone until I find one?"

"I don't feel comfortable sending you off in a cab. There's a licensed company, but I don't think they should be licensed, to be quite honest." Matthew said disparagingly. "I'll drop you home."

"No, Matthew, really-" Mary protested. It was too much to allow him to drive her all the way home at this time of night, especially on a Sunday!

"I insist." Matthew said firmly. "The only thing is– I'm here supporting a friend tonight, so I can't leave yet. Are you alright to hang around for about half an hour?"

Mary would have protested again, but Matthew's tone indicated that there was no room for argument; it made her see him in a different light. "That's fine. I'll stay here." She gestured to the small corridor where they were standing.

"Nonsense." Matthew tutted, beckoning her downstairs.

"I don't want to interrupt your evening." Mary resisted.

"You won't be– the more the merrier, in fact. It's an amateur poetry evening." Matthew explained as they went down the staircase. "One of my friends is doing a reading of some of his own work. My wife's here too." He handed the man at the desk some money.

"Oh, Matthew, let me get that." Mary reached into her handbag, realising that Matthew had just paid her entrance fee, only for Matthew to give her a playfully warning look. She felt very uncomfortable– she'd disrupted Matthew's evening and made him pay for her. Plus, she didn't know anything about poetry, and a quick glance around the room told her that she'd have nothing in common with anybody here. Still, she was inexplicably curious to meet Matthew's wife…

Matthew led her to a small table before introducing her to the three people seated at it. First was his wife, Sophie; she had the same dark blonde hair as Matthew, with slightly pinched, cute features and a very petite frame. Mary was initially surprised by the fact that she was pretty, but she then pointed out to herself that Matthew himself was fairly attractive. The other two people were a couple, Harry and Jade, with the former being the budding poet.

"Sorry to bother you all." Mary said apologetically as Matthew fetched her a chair after explaining her predicament to the group.

"Don't be silly, it's great to have more people here." Jade smiled at her.

"So are you a poetry fan, Mary?" Sophie asked interestedly, taking a small sip of her drink.

Mary hesitated, considering how to explain her total indifference to it. She could see Matthew out of the corner of her eye, smiling amusedly. Apparently he could tell that she was out of her comfort zone. "Not particularly, no. But I'm sure I'll leave tonight with a new-found passion for it!" She joked, prompting light chuckles around the table.

"Let's hope so." Harry replied, pulling out some scraps of paper from his pocket. "I'm up next." He announced nervously to the group.

"You'll be fantastic." Matthew said reassuringly, and Jade gave her boyfriend an encouraging kiss.

Mary sat back and watched as Harry got up and walked over to the small 'stage' area. Having never been somewhere like this before, she took in her surroundings with interest; it was dingy and rather damp, the furnishings were mismatched, most of the guests were overtly artistic in their attire, and the poetry was…incomprehensible. To Mary at least. She had no idea what Harry was talking about. Nevertheless, she clapped enthusiastically as the reading ended, smiling at the cheers and whistles from the other occupants of her table.

She listened silently as Sophie and Jade praised Harry's work, bandying about terms such as 'connectivity', 'enjambed' and 'denouement', and she wondered why people chose to spend their Sunday evenings like this.

…

"I just think drama should hold a much more prominent place in today's curriculum." Jade stated passionately, earning murmurs of assent. The group were sat around the table chatting as they finished off their drinks. Mary had deduced that Jade was also an actress, and had befriended Sophie when they did a play together a few years ago.

"Absolutely. It's astonishing how much its importance is over-looked these days." Sophie shook her head disappointedly. "I really think it's the most useful subject."

"What do you think, Mary?" Matthew asked, the teasing glint in his eye not unnoticed by Mary, who'd been unable to suppress her eye-rolls and looks of incredulity at what she was hearing. Knowing a bit about her background– having grown up in one of the country's most successful business dynasties and possessing a very academic way of thinking– Matthew was curious to hear what her reaction would be.

"To be honest, I'm struggling to understand why drama should take precedence over subjects such as science and maths." She said, deciding to give them a chance to explain themselves.

"What children need when they grow up is a means through which they can express themselves, something they can use to channel their emotions constructively." Sophie replied eagerly. "Science and maths don't provide that– subjects like that are more oppressive than anything else."

"Oppressive?" Mary's eyebrows shot up. What on earth were these people talking about?

"Those subjects force children to sit down and absorb information. There's no room for independent thought." Harry elaborated.

"Since when is independent thought the main criterion for utility in a subject?" Mary had to control her tone of voice to keep it as neutral-sounding as possible. "Science and maths– and English, admittedly– are the basis of the world around us. Children _need_ to sit and absorb information in order to have some understanding of how the world works!"

"Regardless," Sophie interjected; she remained polite and non-confrontational but clearly not persuaded by Mary's arguments, "it has been shown that drama has a multitude of positive effects, on children especially. It can help them understand the world around them just as well as any other subject."

"I read an article recently which said that the power of films could even help people in the third-world get through the struggles of their lives." Jade added, and Mary's face once again contorted into a look of utter disbelief, much to Matthew's amusement.

"Oh yes, I remember that time all those starving children in war-torn Sudan were instantly cured by a showing of The Social Network." Mary remarked sarcastically, earning indignant silence from Sophie and Jade, a polite chuckle from Harry and stifled laughter from Matthew.

…

"So what did you think of the poetry?" Matthew asked Mary as they drove to Mary's house. The rather heated discussion on the merits of drama had ended abruptly, with Harry suggesting they head home as it was getting late. Harry and Jade kindly offered to see Sophie home so that Matthew could take Mary.

"I thought the stream of consciousness was nicely juxtaposed with the allegorical syntax." Mary teased, and Matthew laughed heartily.

"I find it hard to keep up with them myself." Matthew admitted with a grin. "Sorry about Sophie and Jade, by the way; they're overly-passionate about their craft sometimes and don't always see the other side of the argument."

"It's fine, you don't have to apologise for them. I suppose I find it hard to see the other side of the argument too."

"You're not a fan of the arts, then?" Matthew enquired.

"I definitely appreciate it, I just don't think it should take pride of place in the schooling system– I go to classical concerts fairly regularly, and I adore the ballet. Whenever I go, I wish I could've been a ballerina." Mary said wistfully.

"Even though the world can't support that many ballerinas?" Matthew reminded her, and she laughed, taken aback that he remembered what she'd said to him.

The two sat in comfortable silence for a couple of minutes, enjoying the cool air filtering in through the windows on the humid night.

"How long have you been married?" Matthew asked softly. It had suddenly occurred to him that he didn't know.

"Only five months." Mary replied. "Did Ash not tell you?" She queried, wondering how much her husband spoke about her with others.

"I haven't spoken to him much since I was at your house, actually."

"He is pretty quiet." Mary explained. "Although when he's out with his old school and university friends, he turns into a bit of a lad."

Matthew chuckled. "He seems like a nice guy."

"He is." Mary nodded. "Sophie seems nice too."

"She is." Matthew nodded.

"How long have you been married?"

"A year-and-a-half. And we met two years ago." Matthew smiled.

"Wow, that's pretty efficient of you."

"That's an interesting way of looking at it." Matthew laughed. "It was a bit of a whirlwind romance, I suppose."

"How did you meet?"

"It's not particularly romantic, but we did a Fun Run together, for charity." Matthew recalled.

"And you chased her all the way to the altar?" Mary goaded.

"It was more the other way round, actually." He replied, his bashfulness incredibly endearing.

Another comfortable silence. "How does it feel, then, being the new face of Crawley's?" He grinned.

Mary rolled her eyes. "It's a bit of a nightmare, actually. I much prefer the business side of things. They want me to do a photoshoot next week, which I'm absolutely dreading...I don't know what I was thinking when I volunteered myself." She shook her head regretfully. "Thankfully I'm only the face of the women's department, so not everyone will be subjected to my awkward poses and pained facial expressions."

"I'm sure you'll be fine." Matthew chuckled, wondering what she was worried about when she looked the way she did. "But you know what would help you with your modelling?"

"What?" Mary asked eagerly.

"Acting." Came the cheeky reply.

"Of course– the answer to all the world's problems." Mary couldn't help her grin. She was glad that Matthew hadn't taken offence at her objections to his wife's and friend's opinions; she had a feeling that he probably agreed with her, at least to some extent. "What role could you see me in?" She asked light-heartedly, interested to hear his reply; he'd proven to be quite entertaining company.

Matthew frowned as if in deep thought as he considered his answer. "I think…a theatre adaptation of Jersey Shore." He said very seriously, causing Mary to burst into laughter.

"Thanks." Mary said sarcastically, between giggles. "Am I really so uncouth?"

"Oh God, you're terrible." Matthew said exaggeratedly. "I could barely stand to be seen with you in public. I'd cast you as 'Snookie'."

"Matthew!" Mary exclaimed through her laughter.

Matthew looked over to her as he laughed with her; this was the most care-free and happy he'd seen her yet, and he thought how well it suited her, how sweet she sounded.

"I'm only saying it because it's not true." He clarified, although he knew she hadn't taken offence. "You know what they say– mockery is the sincerest form of flattery."

"I've literally never heard anybody say that." Mary retorted.

"Well, then you've been spending time with the wrong people." Matthew replied matter-of-factly. He'd meant it as a joke; but, as they continued to talk and tease on the drive home, Mary wondered at the truth of his statement.

...

_A/N: Please let me know your thoughts. If there is more discomfort about the characters then I may discontinue, as I don't want to write fics which people deem inappropriate! That's really not my intention at all. _


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: thanks so much for all your support and reassurance about this story! I'm really glad so many of you are enjoying it I suppose I got a bit paranoid about whether loads of people secretly thought it was inappropriate but weren't saying anything!_

…

Matthew ran out of the shower and into the bedroom to his ringing phone, the droplets from his hair leaving a trail on the floor behind him.

"Hello?" He answered without taking the time to check who it was.

"It's me." Came Mary's voice. "Are you OK? You sound a bit panicky."

"Yeah, fine." Matthew replied. "I just thought it might be the office calling." He attributed the lightening of his heart at the sound of Mary's voice to relief that he didn't have to go in to work (it being a Saturday).

The past few weeks had seen Matthew and Mary interact with increasing frequency. They'd swapped email addresses and enjoyed sending each other messages or articles, usually with the intention of baiting the other, but sometimes to share something of genuine interest. They'd also spoken on the phone and even met for a post-work coffee a few times; the discussions were mainly about finding investors for Matthew's project, but conversation inevitably flowed into other, diverse topics, and they both disconnected the calls and walked out of the cafes with smiles on their faces and renewed energy to face their days.

"You're such a hard-working boy, Matthew." Mary said, and Matthew could hear her teasing smile in her tone.

"And it's making me rather dull, I'm afraid; I think I need to take a holiday some point soon." Matthew walked to his wardrobe to pull some clothes out.

"Well, I don't have a holiday to give you but I do have something else to offer..." Mary began.

"Oh?" Matthew stopped rifling through the shelves, intrigued.

"I booked two tickets to go and see the Bolshoi ballet tonight, but Ash has changed his mind about going so I've got a spare ticket. I thought you might be interested?" She asked, and Matthew was sure he detected a hint of shyness in her usually confident tone. "But if you're busy then don't worry." She added, over-compensating the nonchalance.

"That sounds great, actually." Matthew said, also not wanting to sound too enthusiastic. "I'd heard they were in town but forgot to try for tickets. Plus, Sophie's at her parents' place this weekend so I'm just hanging out around the house alone."

"Oh, that's worked out well then." Mary smiled, ignoring the surge of excitement inside her at Matthew's acceptance.

"It certainly has." Matthew replied. There followed an awkward silence, neither party knowing what to say.

"So...I'll meet you at the Royal Opera House at about 6.30 then?" Mary said eventually. "In the lobby."

"Great, see you then." Matthew waited for the click and then disconnected the call himself. Blowing the air out of his cheeks, he turned his attention to the 'smart' section of his wardrobe.

...

"So why didn't Ash want to come?" Matthew asked as they took their seats. "Not a ballet fan?"

"He's seen the Bolshoi several times before and he says he's bored of them." Mary replied, slipping off her coat. "To be honest, I think he wanted a bit of a break from me too." She added with a little scoff. Matthew watched her intently as she looked around the hall, gazing down at the orchestra and the stage. "I don't see how he could tire of something so beautiful and captivating, though." She said dreamily.

"No. Nor do I." Matthew agreed quietly, not just talking about the ballet.

...

"Thanks for coming with me. I'd have been rather disappointed to miss it, but I didn't fancy going to the ballet on my own." Mary chuckled lightly as she turned the corner. She'd driven to Covent Garden, whereas Matthew had gotten the tube, and had insisted on driving Matthew back home; after all, she owed him a lift.

"No problem– thanks for asking! You saved me from a weekend of feeling like I should be painting the second bedroom." Matthew replied.

"I find it interesting that I saved you from a weekend of _feeling_ like you should be painting, rather than _actually_ painting."

Matthew laughed. "There is quite a distinction, I agree. In my defence, though, we don't actually need to paint it– we've been contemplating moving house in a year or so, so we thought we'd gradually spruce our place up bit-by-bit to help it sell more quickly when the time comes." He explained.

"Why do you want to move?" Mary had a sinking feeling that Sophie wanted a bigger place– one which would accommodate children.

"We're not that fond of our area, really." Matthew's answer provided Mary with much relief, although she suspected that babies must be another reason, in Sophie's mind at least. "We never envisaged the house as a long-term residence. It was just that we wanted to get on the property market and it was the only place we could afford at the time."

"That makes sense." Mary nodded. "It's a sensible way to go about things."

"Did you and Ash live together before getting married?" Matthew asked, suddenly realising that he didn't know. It felt strange not to know such basic facts about her life.

"No. We only moved in to the house about three months ago." Mary answered, and they both paused to consider how recently they'd met. It felt like it had been so much longer, like they must have been part of each other's lives for a much greater period of time. "We lived with Ash's parents for a couple of months before that, until the renovations were completed."

"Oh I see. Where do his parents live?" Matthew asked interestedly. He was willing to wager they lived in a country manor.

"We stayed in their house in Arkley, right on the London/Hertfordshire border. They have an estate in Cornwall, though."

_Close enough_. "Must've been nice." Matthew said inquisitively as he watched the London roads whizz past through the car window. Having had no proper connections or encounters with the upper-echelons of society, he was curious to hear about that way of life. He turned to look at Mary when he was met with silence. "Mary?"

"It was nice…in a sense." Mary began slowly. She'd never spoken about that time, not in any depth. She sighed. "The house was more than comfortable, everything was provided for me, rent-free. But it was…a bit of a struggle, socially."

"What do you mean?" Matthew asked. He was watching Mary carefully as she spoke– something in her demeanour had changed. She seemed downcast, almost defeated.

"His family…Ash comes from a line of estate owners. His parents, and their parents, are used to having their own way. His father grew up being able to boss the domestic workers around, totally unchecked. They still carry the same attitude, regardless of who they're speaking to." Mary continued staring straight ahead, despite having stopped at a traffic light.

"So you don't really get along with them?" Matthew asked softly, feeling like he should tread cautiously in this conversation.

Mary shook her head. "I had to take it one day at a time. It was a very _long_ two months." She laughed, trying to keep the conversation light, but failing as her voice was devoid of any humour. "Our outlook on life is completely different– they don't agree with me having a job in business, as a woman, for starters."

"What? Why not?" Matthew blurted out, and Mary smiled at his liberal outrage.

"They think now that I'm married, I should stay at home. It's not within their capacity to understand why women would want to pursue a career…or at least, a career which doesn't involve cookery or textiles."

"But-" Matthew protested.

"I know, Matthew." Mary smiled. "I threw all the arguments I had at them, trust me. But their nineteenth-century views were not to be changed. So, all I can do is avoid the subject with them and pursue my career anyway." She shrugged, finding a spot to park in– they'd reached Matthew's house.

"I suppose lots of people have problems with their in-laws. At least you don't have to live with those problems now." He regretted the words immediately after speaking them– he'd been presumptuous about her marriage, and judging by the expression on her face, his presumption was inaccurate.

Mary's eyes were fixed on the dashboard, but her mind was elsewhere. Was she still living with those same problems? She didn't think so. But there were definitely other issues. They'd been troubling her, niggling in the back of her mind, but she'd had nobody to tell. Until now. "When Ashley and I moved in together," she began softly, "I…I missed my family. Almost immediately." She confessed. She looked up to Matthew and saw his brow knit in confusion. "You don't know me well enough to understand exactly what that means– but, basically, when I was living at home I couldn't wait to get married and leave. I thought I had it tough." She scoffed at herself, at her own naivety. "But after I got married, I became very aware of what was now missing from my life; there's no challenge, no excitement, no wit. I miss the conversations I used to have, I miss the conversations I used to _overhear_ my parents or my sisters have. I even miss the arguments!" She laughed. "It probably sounds bad to say it, but at least my mind was being stimulated during arguments with my family."

Matthew did nothing, said nothing– he just listened. He could tell that this was the first time anybody was hearing Mary say these words and divulge these concerns about her marriage. In a strange way, he felt privileged to be the one she chose to speak to about it. More than that, however, it troubled him to see her so dissatisfied with her life. But he didn't see how he could help.

"Someone– a friend– asked me the other day if Ash and I ever fight." Mary continued, her thoughts flowing more freely now. "And I realised that we never do– we never have. Not one single fight, and we've been together for three years. Isn't that strange?" She asked rhetorically. "My friend said 'aren't you lucky?' and started complaining about the tiffs that she and her fiancé have been having. Then I went home and realised– we don't fight because…we don't care." Her voice grew more emotional as she spoke, less controlled. "He doesn't care if I come home late without telling him where I've been, or if I disagree with him about politics, or if I take another man with me to the ballet." She gestured frustratedly at Matthew. "And I can't even be angry at him for it because _I_ wouldn't care about any of those things either." Mary paused, her breathing slowed down, her mind still reflecting on the last five months and beyond, trying to find a way to summarise her relationship. Eventually, she was provided with a word. "Indifference."

Matthew's heart broke for her. It tore him apart to see such a vivacious, enthralling woman having the life slowly drained out of her. He watched her for a few moments longer, unsure if she had anything left to say. They both sat in the car in silence, parked in front of Matthew's house.

"Why did you marry him?" Matthew asked tentatively. It was a very private question, but he felt it was necessary to know. If it had been love, maybe there was still hope for her marriage– a marriage still so young. Maybe he'd be able to see her happy.

Mary took a deep breath. "I was very attracted to him– and I thought that was important. I'm not attracted to men easily, so I presumed that meant he was special." She scoffed again at her own naivety. "He's from money, so I knew I'd be secure. That was important for my parents, too. We got along well enough; things were never exciting with him, but they were stable and steady and I knew what I was getting with him so it seemed a sensible idea to marry him. He ticked all the boxes."

Matthew nodded in understanding. She wasn't in love. His emotional reactions to this news were conflicting and confusing.

"It was a decision purely based on logic." Mary said with a deliberateness which caught Matthew's attention. Her eyes met his with a knowing look, and he remembered the conversation they'd had over tea in her kitchen. "I thought love can't possibly be for everyone, so there's no point sitting around waiting for it and dreaming about it. 'The world can't support that many ballerinas'." Mary recalled ruefully. "A flawed piece of logic, it seems."

He sat in silence, trying to process his thoughts, as Mary sat in silence, trying to collect herself.

"I should probably head home." Mary declared eventually, her guard up again. "It's getting quite late."

"Of course." Matthew said softly, still watching her intently in case there was anything else she wanted to say. Seeing she was determined to end the conversation, he conceded. "Thanks for the lift."

"No problem." Mary's smile didn't reach her eyes. She watched absent-mindedly as Matthew got out of the car.

"I'll speak to you soon." Matthew offered, as a kind of reassurance. He wasn't entirely sure why that would be reassurance to Mary, but he felt some bond had been forged between them over the last few weeks, which they both took pleasure in and comfort from.

Mary merely nodded– gratefully, he thought– before she turned her attention back to the road, and drove off.

…

_A/N: I wanted to avoid making M/M's respective spouses terrible people– just the __wrong__ people for them. I hope that came across! As always, please review!_


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: hello! I'm so sorry that this update has taken so long to make an appearance. I wasn't anticipating that it would appear even this soon, but I've received some lovely messages and reviews over the last week or two which has spurred me on- so thank you very much! It really helps to know that people are interested xxx_

…

Matthew gulped down the rest of his coffee, shut his laptop and left hurriedly his office. While he hadn't let hard-working and diligent nature slip, the toil of legal work was becoming extremely grating, and he spent his weeks seeking any form of distraction from the career that was stifling his creativity.

He'd been pleasantly interrupted minutes earlier, then, by the calendar reminder which informed him it was time to go and meet Mary; she'd emailed him earlier in the day to ask if they could have a quick coffee or something after work, as she'd had an idea which she wanted to share with him in person.

"So what is this mysterious idea of yours?" Matthew asked as they settled down with their drinks in the cosy café in Soho.

Mary placed her mug on the table and smiled broadly. "The internet." She declared proudly.

"Erm, sorry to break it to you but I think that's already been invented, Mary. " He smirked when Mary narrowed her eyes at him.

"That's not what I meant." She made to slap his arm but he dodged out of the way, accidentally spilling some smoothie onto the table. "I read an article yesterday about how a few theatres have started streaming their shows online, for a fee, so people can watch productions from home." She explained, handing him a napkin to mop up the mess.

Matthew mulled over the idea before nodding eagerly. "That's a great way to reach a wider audience. A lot of people don't want to go out to a theatre and fork out a few hours' wages to see something in case they don't enjoy it. This way, they can test it out from the comfort of their own home!" He said enthusiastically.

"Exactly. And it's a good way to make some extra money." Mary stated, and Matthew smiled at how she was ever the businesswoman. "You won't be able to charge as much as for a live performance, naturally, but like you said, it would help get people interested in attending live shows."

More details were relayed by Mary to Matthew, both of them growing increasingly excited about the prospect. "Thanks so much for telling me about this." Matthew said gratefully, as Mary took her phone out to email the link to the article to him. "How did you find out about it?" He asked curiously, checking that he'd received the email in his inbox.

Mary shrugged, slightly embarrassed. "I was bored last night. I ended up browsing through the internet and happened upon this article." She shrugged again nonchalantly, hoping the conversation would move on from this topic. Truthfully, she'd found herself giving a lot of thought to Matthew – during work, at home...

"Well, I'm glad you did." Matthew ended the conversation as he watched her self-consciously pick at an imaginary speck on her coffee mug. They sat in comfortable silence for a minute.

"How are things going with Crawley's?" Matthew asked interestedly, remembering that the one-hundredth anniversary campaign was scheduled to begin in a fortnight.

The stress, which had mercifully abated since meeting Matthew, returned to Mary. "Not great." She sighed, frowning as a headache emerged. "Some of our plans for marketing are going to take longer to implement than we'd originally anticipated, but Dad doesn't want to abandon them in favour of a quicker alternative." She took another sip of her caffeinated beverage, hoping it would instantly boost her spirits. "So we'll probably have to push the whole thing back by a couple of weeks."

"That might be better in a way– it'll give you more time to do things properly, the way you want them done, and you won't have to rush." Matthew offered, seeing that Mary's work was troubling her. He knew how dear and how important the department store was to her and her family; it was their history, their livelihood, their very reputation.

"Hmm, I suppose. But it might mean I'll be too busy to go to the recital." Mary said wearily, forgetting that a confused Matthew had no idea what she was referring to. Seeing his questioning face, she began to explain.

A week or so earlier, she'd come across an advert in the local paper. It was requesting volunteers to assist in a dance recital for young girls in the area, with the aim of raising money to keep the local dance school afloat. Having been inspired by Matthew's passion, commitment and sacrifice to pursue what he loves, Mary decided to take a drastic leap away from her usual lifestyle and responded to the advert. Since then, she'd met with the organisers twice and watched a few of the little girls rehearse. As she had no background in dance herself, just a keen interest, she'd been delegated the task of marketing and increasing the guestlist from its current tally of three guests. It was the smallest-scale event she'd ever been associated with (it was taking place in a tiny Church hall) but Mary took joy in the fulfilment it provided her with.

"Half of me wants to scold you for not telling me about this sooner, and the other half is really impressed. I'm so glad you're doing this." Matthew said with a large grin once Mary finished speaking. He was incredibly touched to learn that he'd had an impact on her, but more poignantly, it made him disproportionately happy. He'd been humbled by her interest in his career, and so very appreciative of her friendship and support. But knowing that she thought highly of him- enough to inspire her to do something new in her life- filled him with a unique sense of pride.

Mary looked down at the table modestly, but she couldn't suppress the sparkle in her eyes and the smile which pulled at the corner of her mouth. Not many a time had anybody said they'd been impressed with her- they'd congratulated her on a good business decision, they'd said her outfit was well put-together, but there'd never been much appreciation in respect of her deeds or her personality. But that's what made her relationship with Matthew special. She felt appreciated.

"When can I expect my invite?" Matthew asked, picking at his Danish pastry.

"You want to come?" Mary asked disbelievingly. She'd expected only the parents of the girls and perhaps the odd lonely old woman to turn up at the recital. Not a young man with a barely enough time to dedicate towards his own pursuits.

"Of course I do." Matthew replied matter-of-factly, popping a chunk of pastry into his mouth. "When is it?"

…

A couple of weeks later, and the stress of the campaign launch had made Mary Crawley an unbearable force to reckon with. Deciding nothing he could say would calm her down, and not being willing to try, Ash spent most of his time away from the house. Sometimes he wouldn't return for a couple of days.

Mary was largely glad for the extra peace and quiet, although it meant she had nobody to take out her frustration on.

"Hey, how are things?" Matthew asked genially as Mary answered his call. Guessing that Mary's current blood pressure levels would be unhealthily high, he thought a quick phonecall might cheer her up. Robert would undoubtedly be fretting too, but he knew that Mary in particular would be very tense about the campaign. Crawley's was to be under her ownership in the future, and it was her face that would help re-launch it.

"_Awful_." Mary replied dramatically, growing irritated at Matthew's chuckle in response. She'd expected him to be sympathetic.

"What's wrong?" Whatever her answer would be, he knew Mary was worrying over nothing. He'd heard almost all the details of the re-launch from her, and also from her father, and it was clearly going to be a success.

"Dad just called and informed me that the PR team has organised a string of events for me to attend, as promotion for the centenary." She sighed. "So tonight I'm being forced to go to a premiere for this film I've never heard of, and one of the PR people is emailing me my itinerary for the next couple of weeks." She finished with a huff, her anger growing as she heard Matthew laugh lightly yet again. "What's so funny?" She demanded.

"Mary, forgive me, but I'm not sure what part of you being sought-after and going to glamorous evenings out is so terrible." Matthew replied, and Mary could hear the smirk in his voice.

"I'm _busy_, Matthew!" She said exasperatedly. "I don't have time for these stupid events, I need to work on the campaign and the recital is in two days!"

"But attending these events _is_ work for the campaign, isn't it?" Matthew made what he thought was a helpful point, but it only wound Mary up even more. "You'll be promoting Crawley's and having a good time too. Well, you would be having a good time if you lightened up a bit." He joked, hoping that his jibe would alleviate her mood.

"Are you _trying_ to piss me off?" Mary asked sharply, her sleep-deprivation and stress pouring out of her in the form of barbed remarks.

Matthew was taken aback. "No, of course not." He became defensive. He'd only been trying to help. "I just meant that these parties and premieres aren't anything to pull your hair out over."

"Look, Matthew, no offence, but I don't think you really understand this lifestyle so I'm not sure how well-placed you are to comment." Mary said, the words 'no offence' doing nothing to conceal the harshness underlying her statement.

There was silence on the other end of the line for a few moments. The two of them had fallen into a habit of making jokes at the other's expense, typically about the way the other grew up, given that their backgrounds were so different. Everything so far had been said purely in jest, however. But now, Matthew felt hurt. "I see." He said quietly. "I suppose I'd better leave you to it, then." He said rather bitterly, and hung up.

…

Scattered applause. That was all Mary had been able to achieve. She frowned sadly as three of the little girls bowed gracefully before leaving the make-shift stage, and glanced around the room at the unoccupied chairs. The other organisers insisted that they were happy with the turn-out, it being more than they would have obtained had Mary not assisted them. But for someone who was used to surpassing her goals, Mary was disappointed in herself.

She was disappointed in herself for another reason, too. Her conversation with Matthew, and its abrupt end, plagued her mind. She'd had similar conversations with other people before, of course- countless times. But this was one of the few that she felt guilty about. Matthew had been sweet and tried to lift her spirits, and she'd insulted him and driven him away. _I seem to have a knack for driving people away_, she thought drily, as she remembered her absent husband.

A loud creak interrupted her thoughts, and the audience turned to see its source. Mary couldn't believe her eyes. It was Matthew. He smiled sheepishly as he shut the door, his apology for the loud noise, and slowly walked over to take a seat in one of the many empty chairs to enjoy the rest of the show.

Mary couldn't take her eyes off him. _He came_. She'd half thought he might not want to speak to her again, but he was here! He hadn't looked at her yet- she was tucked away on the side of the room and out of his line of sight- but she noticed his eyes scan the room every now and then, as if searching for her.

Once the final performance had finished, and one of the dance teachers expressed her gratitude to the guests who were mostly in a hurry to fetch their children and leave the cold, dank Church hall, Mary stepped over to where Matthew was putting his scarf on.

"Hi." She said, immediately rolling her eyes at herself for sounding so timid and stupid.

Matthew paused in between doing the buttons up on his coat as he turned to answer. All anger and hurt he'd been feeling towards her immediately dissipated as he looked at her, smiling at him shyly. It had been about a week since he'd last seen her, but it felt like far too long. It was as if her beauty was magnified by the time they'd spent apart. He felt like he'd have to see her everyday if he was to avoid looking like a startled puppy everytime he laid eyes on her.

"It went well!" He blurted out, then regretted it instantly. He thought that she'd want to hear that the recital had gone well, but he'd been too hasty in telling her- it sounded completely fake.

Mary couldn't help but laugh. "It obviously didn't, Matthew." She said, yet again humbled by how nice he was being to her. "You had far too much choice when picking your seat, for starters."

"Sorry about turning up late, by the way." Matthew said. "I couldn't get out of work on time."

He was continually bowling her over with his unadulterated sweetness. "Don't apologise!" Mary exclaimed. She should be the one apologising! "I'm so grateful…that you came." She said, blushing, open expressions of gratitude being foreign to her. "I'm afraid you were probably quite dissatisfied with it, though. I think everybody was."

"Not at all!" Matthew said genuinely, his face adorably earnest as he tried to convince her that he had enjoyed the evening. "It was all wonderful. That tall-ish blonde girl is really good."

Mary nodded enthusiastically. "Alicia. She is amazing. Donna- that's the main teacher- said she could probably get into one of the top dance schools when she's a bit older." Mary beamed, and Matthew's expression echoed her own.

"You really enjoy this, don't you?" He asked rhetorically. It was plain to see how much she cared about this little group of girls and their teachers, despite knowing about them for only a few weeks.

"I do." Mary nodded, still smiling. She paused, turning more serious. "And I have you to thank for it. I wouldn't have ever done this if it wasn't for you." She said softly but sincerely, pleased to see Matthew look flattered. "But, more than thanking you, I need to apologise."

Matthew began shaking his head. "No, Mary, it's fine-"

"No, please." Mary interrupted. Matthew relented, and listened as she explained how her impatience and her temper was one of her worst faults, and how she was going to make sure she didn't take her emotions out on people so much- especially people who were only being good to her. "I hope you weren't too insulted."

Matthew smiled and shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I should have read your mood better before making jokes."

The two smiled at each other for a moment, before Mary decided to ask the question that had been in the forefront of her mind since she saw Matthew enter the room. "Why did you come here? After I'd been so rude?" Matthew frowned- he looked like he was confused by her question. Suddenly, his brow lifted, as if he'd come to a realisation.

"You must think you don't mean very much to me." He said softly.

…

Mary readjusted herself on the sofa before trying once again to undo the zip on her left boot, her face wrinkled with effort and determination.

Her day had not been going well so far. Her attempts at making breakfast had gone awry, resulting in the house filling with smoke. This meant she'd had to open the windows, and put on an extra jumper to shield herself from the cold wind billowing indoors. In an hour's time she had to leave to attend an impromptu board meeting for Crawley's; this was never going to be an ideal way to spend a Saturday, but her new boots were making her life even more difficult by refusing to unzip.

"Shit!" She exclaimed when all she gained from her attempt was a cut in her thumb where the zip had dug into it.

"What are you swearing about?"

Mary jumped at the sound of the voice behind her. "Matthew?" She asked, puzzled by his appearance outside her living room window.

"You know, if you're going to shout expletives at yourself all day, it might be best if you shut the windows." Matthew suggested, and Mary wanted to slap the condescension off of his face. His handsome, smirking face…

"I'll thank you to refrain from handing out advice when I'm in my own home and you are trespassing." Mary said haughtily, turning her attention back to her boots.

"I feel like I'm in a Jane Austen novel when I speak to you sometimes." Matthew leaned on the window-sill and watched her struggle with something on her leg. "What are you doing?"

Mary looked up at him frustratedly. "Will you stop talking to me as if I'm not supposed to be here and you are?" Her irritation grew at the grin spreading across Matthew's face. "Why are you here?"

"Ash left some of his kit at the grounds this morning so I thought I'd drop it off." He held up a pair of shorts as evidence. "Are you going to let me in?" He pointed his head towards the front door.

"I don't see the need– you're being incredibly annoying and you could just pass me the shorts through the window." Mary got up and walked over to the window with her arm out-stretched.

"Yes, but you were raised with much better manners than that." Matthew countered, and he took pleasure in seeing the outward effects of Mary's internal battle; she clearly wanted to win their little argument by sending him home, but didn't want him to be able to hold her own rudeness against her. Their little tiff a week earlier had already become the subject of jokes between them, and Mary knew that losing her temper again would give him the upper-hand in their mocking battles. A triumphant smile graced Matthew's features as Mary resignedly went to open the front door.

"Now, are you going to tell me what you're doing?" Matthew dropped the shorts down on the armchair as he walked to where Mary had seated herself on the sofa, once again fiddling agitatedly at something on her calf.

"These. Bloody. Boots. Won't. Come. Off!" Mary punctuated each word with a frustrated kick of her boot into the floor.

"Woah, Mary!" Matthew laughed. "You'll break a hole in the flooring. Why do you need to take them off so urgently?"

"I put them on to wear to go shopping but Dad called and said there's an emergency board meeting at 12pm, which means I need to change into heels." Mary explained, still struggling with the left boot.

Matthew sat down next to her. "Let me try." He held his arm out near her leg, looking up at Mary when he felt her gaze on him. She looked uncertain. "What is it?"

Mary continued to study him. Her instincts told her there was something inappropriate about this, but he seemed as innocent and sincere as always. She then realised that it wasn't his motives which were causing her unease– they'd never touched each other before, at least not since the night they first met when he accidentally elbowed her. How would it make her feel? For better or worse, her curiosity won over her sense of propriety, and she angled herself and lifted her leg up slightly.

Matthew placed both hands around her calf and gently rested it on his knee. "I never understand why women buy such hellish contraptions to wear on their feet." He joked casually, as they both tried to ignore the quickening heart-rates and stomach fluttering which arose as soon as they registered how close they were.

Mary focussed her attention solely on Matthew negotiating the zip down her leg, as opposed to the proximity of his head to hers, or the fact that her left leg was draped across his. She offered silent thanks to God that she was wearing jeans, rather than having bare legs. "Of course you wouldn't understand the concept of 'fashion'." She sought comfort in her put-downs to distract her from the feelings of attraction towards Matthew.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Matthew turned to face her as he slipped the boot down her leg and off, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Only that your wardrobe isn't exactly the epitome of style." Mary replied. She shifted herself away from him slightly, now that her boot was rid of, but felt his hand close around her ankle.

"I don't think I understand what you're hinting at." Matthew challenged, suppressing a smile at her teasing. "Are you saying I have bad taste in clothes?"

Mary pretended to seriously ponder her answer. "No, I wouldn't go that far."

"Well how far would you go?" Matthew asked, his voice low, and Mary felt her throat dry up. Banishing all thoughts of indecency from her mind, she managed a reply.

"I'd say that your dress sense is fine, for a…" She considered her words carefully.

"For a?" Matthew prompted, his grip on her ankle tightening further.

"For a maths teacher from the 1990s." Mary stated, trying to stifle her giggle.

"Is that right?" Matthew raised an eyebrow at her, but Mary began to panic as she noticed his free hand slowly inch towards the bare sole of her foot.

"Matthew, don't you dare!" She warned, trying to pull her foot free from his grasp. She screamed as his fingers began relentlessly tickling her foot, the grip on her ankle firm enough to prevent her from escaping. All she could do was try to kick and bat him away with her other limbs through her laughter. "Matthew, _stop_!" She squealed, hitting him as he found a particularly sensitive spot on the balls of her foot.

Matthew laughed heartily as he watched her, thinking how wonderful she looked like this.

…

_A/N: I wanted to show a couple of different sides to Matthew and Mary's relationship here, how it's deepening but is also quite fun. I hope that came across! As we all know, this is a tricky storyline to get right, so I hope I'm doing it justice. Please let me know your thoughts!_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: sorry this story is being updated quite slowly now, but thanks so much for all your reviews and encouragement! It really does keep me going. _

_A couple of you rightly asked for a bit more insight into Matthew's marriage, and thankfully that is what I'd had planned for this chapter anyway _

…

"That journalist I was telling you about is doing a talk in Holborn this Thursday. Fancy coming?" Matthew asked his wife, placing the newspaper advert in front of her.

"'The age of nuclear energy'? I think I'll pass, thanks." Sophie laughed, setting the newspaper down and turning back to her script.

"I know it doesn't sound that enthralling, but it'll be good. I don't know much about it but he writes really accessibly so it should be interesting to learn about the topic. It's only an hour long, anyway." Matthew explained, sitting down opposite her at the dining table.

"I don't think so." Sophie said dismissively, frowning slightly as she tried to concentrate on what she was reading.

Matthew looked at her for a moment. "Why don't you _ever_ want to try anything new?" He blurted out, startling her.

"What?" Sophie asked, taken aback by the agitated tone in her husband's voice.

"It seems like you only want to do things if they involve poetry or acting, or maybe the odd fun-run." Matthew elaborated.

"Well, sorry babe, but nuclear energy isn't really my bag!" Sophie chuckled, hoping to alleviate the tension which had suddenly descended upon them.

"It's not just this." Matthew shook his head. "You never come to any of the things I want to go to. You came to one of my work parties and that was it. Yet I always find myself running along to all your events, or even your friends' events."

"I'm not forcing you to accompany me anywhere." Sophie fought back, now irritated by Matthew's words. "I presumed you liked spending time with me."

"So I would be right in presuming that your refusal to go anywhere with me means you don't like spending time with me?" Matthew argued. "It's either that or narrow-mindedness that's preventing you from trying things that mean a lot to me." All his suppressed emotions were beginning to spill out now, and in a way he was glad of it. While he hated arguing with anyone, let alone his wife, he felt it was healthy to talk about things openly.

"Oh shut up, Matthew." Sophie cut the conversation short, collecting her script and leaving the room.

…

"Hey, come in." Matthew greeted Mary as he opened his front door.

"Sorry I'm a bit earlier than I said I'd be. I had to drop Sybil off at the airport but she'd got the time wrong- it turned out her plane was leaving an hour earlier than planned, so we had to rush to Heathrow at lightning speed. I hung out on my own for a while after seeing her off but it was depressing seeing all these people about to go on holiday so I thought I'd just come here early instead." Mary reeled off her anecdote as she breezed into the house, causing Matthew much amusement. "Anyway, I brought the draft business plan." Mary declared, reaching into her bag to pull out a folder.

"Matthew?" Sophie's voice called as she came down the stairs. Matthew quickly closed his hand around Mary's, pushing the folder back into her satchel. "Oh, hi Mary, I thought I heard someone come in." Sophie smiled.

"Yes, I was just apologising to Matthew for being early." Mary smiled back, concealing her confusion at Matthew's strange behaviour.

"Mary came over to bring me up to speed on how Crawleys' is getting on." Matthew said to his wife, sensing Mary's questioning look from beside him.

"Oh, lovely. I hope it's going well." Sophie said politely, shrugging her jacket on. "I'm afraid I'm just stepping out to visit a friend, but good luck with it all."

"Thanks, take care." Mary smiled politely back. She and Matthew stood silently as they waited for Sophie to grab her handbag and leave.

"Sorry about that– It's just that I don't want to tell Sophie about any of this yet." Matthew explained, once the front door had closed.

"Oh?" Mary asked curiously. Their relationship had been relatively brief but she already knew how honest Matthew was.

"I know, it's not great to keep secrets." Matthew began, reading the look in Mary's eyes. "But I thought I'd do my research and see how viable the plan is before telling her. I'd rather delay the argument." He sighed.

Mary watched him carefully as she went to sit on the sofa. His jaw was set and his expression hardened. "If she knows how serious you are about it and how much effort you're putting in to reduce the risk, I'm sure she'll come round." Mary said with a certainty she did not feel.

"I'm not so sure; she's very paranoid about the money issue." Matthew said.

Mary could empathise; having always had a more than healthy flow of income, whether during childhood or as a married woman, she'd never had to worry about money. Even if a bad business decision was made and losses resulted, there would still be enough money left over to get by comfortably. Matthew and his wife didn't have that luxury. "I'm sure she is." Mary nodded understandingly. "There _will_ be a risk, Matthew. You can't eliminate it." She told him, not sure whether he realised that his wife has a point.

"I know that." Matthew replied defensively, and Mary nodded.

"But we'll think of contingency plans, if these investors don't work out or something goes awry. You might need to be a bit careful and save up as much as you can, just in case." Mary advised, not wanting to pry too much but feeling she was close enough with Matthew to say these things. "Maybe Sophie could get a part-time job or something? It's up to you both. But, I think if things go according to plan, your earnings from the theatre won't be too bad at all. Plus you'll be happier, and you can't put a price on that!" Mary smiled, surprised by her own optimism.

Matthew looked at her appreciatively. "I'm afraid Sophie's not mature enough to see things that way." He muttered.

Mary raised an eyebrow at this. Matthew had never even alluded to marital problems, outside of Sophie's opposition to him changing career.

Matthew sat down on the sofa next to her with a deep sigh, his hands fidgeting. It was clear to Mary that he wanted to speak further. She waited a moment to see if he would, before gently prodding him. "What is it?"

"She…doesn't really support me." Matthew succumbed to the words which had been fighting to be spoken.

"Why not?" Mary asked. They'd married for love, hadn't they? Surely you'd support the person you loved?

"She thinks, because I pursued law, that…I don't deserve to go back to the theatre. She thinks I've already made my decision, and I chose money and security over my passion, so I should stick with it."

"But people change careers all the time." Mary argued. "And you're only 27! Most people our age have no idea what they want to do with their lives!" She exclaimed.

"I'm not the one you need to be telling." Matthew smiled ruefully. "She thinks I'm a sell-out who doesn't deserve to follow his dreams. But to her, she's not being unsupportive, she's being realistic."

Mary was incensed at what she was hearing. How dare someone try to deny Matthew the right to do the job he's always wanted?

"And she thinks even if I do try, I'll fail." Matthew added, and Mary couldn't tell if his voice grew different with hurt or with anger.

"But you're so clever." Mary replied. The corner of Matthew's mouth turned up slightly. "I'm not saying that just to be nice– it's true." Mary clarified.

"I know you well enough to know you don't say things just to be nice." Matthew retorted, humour creeping back into his tone.

"You've put in so much thought and hard-work. And if you can do all this alongside a demanding full-time job in the City…well, I'd imagine you'd be fine once you're able to focus solely on the theatre." Mary continued. She didn't want to see Matthew despondent over something which should be making him happy. "I'm not worried about you." She concluded, one of the most sincere things she'd ever said.

Matthew turned his head to face her, expressing his appreciation through looks alone. Mary looked on as he glanced back down to his lap, his fingers still fidgeting and his brow furrowed. "I think," he started eventually, softly, "…_sometimes_, I think– maybe we married too soon." Mary had to strain to hear the last few words, given that they were whispered, as if the most secretive of confessions.

"Why do you say that?" She whispered back, as they sat alone in the house.

"I don't doubt that we were in love– we were, very much." Matthew explained hurriedly, seemingly upset by his own words and feeling the need to make things better. He paused. "_But_," he forced himself to say, "I think it was quite a young, foolish sort of love." Mary waited as he stopped to think for a moment, a soft smile playing on his lips as he recalled some memories. "We enjoyed the fact that we had similar backgrounds, had similar interests and aspirations…and we quickly created this idea that we were 'meant to be together' and I conjured up some fantasy of how my life would be with her, going to see plays, cooking together, doing charity events together... We sort of lost ourselves in that. We let ourselves get carried away with it all."

"A bit like Romeo with Rosaline?" Mary queried.

"Yes…although we were both Romeos." Matthew scoffed. "I'm not sure it's particularly healthy to have two Romeos in a relationship together."

"You were clearly besotted with each other, though, if you got so swept up in everything and married so quickly. I'm sure you can revive that." Mary offered helpfully. It deeply troubled her that Matthew was– although not depressed or terribly unhappy– not enamoured with his life. She felt like he was the sort of person who should be in love with everything and everyone around him, who should be happy and exhilarated all the time. That's how she wanted to see him.

"Hmm." Matthew hummed, although even that sounded unconvinced. "But like I said, it was quite a foolish sort of love. The 'wrong kind' of love, if that makes sense."

"How do you mean?" Mary frowned. Having never known real love herself, she was unfamiliar with these different categories and types.

Matthew opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated as he thought of how to phrase his words. "It was a rather narcissistic love. I did fall in love with her, but aside from that, I fell in love with how she made me _feel_. She was always going out of her way to see me, taking any opportunity to show me off to her friends and family because she was so proud of me. I liked that a young, pretty actress was after me. And I think she liked that a– what she saw as– handsome, successful lawyer wanted her. I think I mentioned to you– it was Sophie who made the relationship progress, not me. Marriage was actually her suggestion, although I did propose properly later." Matthew smiled fondly as he reminisced. "I'd always had an image of myself being the doting husband and having a doting wife in a little house somewhere, and she offered me that."

"But now there's not as much doting?" Mary asked.

Matthew laughed breathily, and wondered how even the most serious of conversations could be lightened because of Mary. "No…now there's not as much doting." He confirmed with a small smile. "We are still fond of each other, though. It's not as if she makes me miserable, not by any means. She's still good-natured and kind, and all the factors which brought us together are still there. But…" Matthew paused again, sighing, saddened by the words on the tip of his tongue. "We share the same background, but not the same way of thinking…not in the material ways, anyway. We share the same interests, but I don't feel like we're _connected_ in the way a husband and wife should be. We share similar ambitions, but what is that if we don't support each other?" Matthew fell silent, his gaze fixed somewhere in the middle-distance.

Mary could sympathise. Her marriage had fairly similar issues, insofar as there were different outlooks on life and a lack of a deep connection, so she could understand what Matthew was saying. The pair sat in silence for a few minutes. "Well, they do say that the first couple of years of marriage are always rocky." Mary offered, attempting to ease the concerns of them both.

"That's probably true." Matthew nodded slowly. "It's just that-" he broke off, and Mary noticed him become more tense. He sighed. "I've realised lately what's important in a marriage," he began slowly, quietly, "what you need to make it work. Any marriage will be shaky, especially at the start, but if you have those vital ingredients, you'll get through it."

"Well do share, please." Mary requested with a smile. Anyone else would have found their situation rather dismal– two adults confiding in each other their marital problems. But Mary was never one to wallow.

"Well, love, firstly." Matthew began. "But it has to be a deep, strong love. Not a lustful, or overly-sentimental, or fantastical one. There should be romance, of course, but your spouse should be your best friend…it should feel like you're not complete without them, like family– because that's what they are." Matthew saw Mary nod in agreement. "You need to be evenly-matched, in terms of intellect and wit, even if your interests differ. Otherwise things will get dull very quickly."

"I definitely agree with you there." Mary remarked drily, and Matthew couldn't help but smile at her tone even though her meaning wasn't funny at all.

"And you should support each other. Be on the same side. On the same team."

"Do you not feel like you have any of those things with Sophie?" Mary asked, resting her head against the back of the sofa.

"No, not really." Matthew replied, his head mirroring hers. "We have other things, but not those." After a moment he asked, "What about you and Ash?"

"Same answer as yours, I'm afraid." Mary sighed. "Although I'm not even sure we have other things anymore."

Matthew merely looked at her for a moment before turning to stare at the ceiling as he thought.

"It seems we married our spouses for almost the exact opposite reasons– you for the wrong kind of love, and me for the wrong kind of logic. Yet we've ended up with very similar problems." Mary smiled, although she was unable to conceal the sadness from it. "Isn't that funny?"

Matthew turned to look at her properly, their heads only inches apart. "I admire your ability to find humour in absolutely everything." He said with a smirk, which grew into a true smile as he saw Mary laugh sincerely at his remark.

…

_A/N: again, please review and fill me in on your thoughts! xxx_


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: thanks so, so much for all your support with this story. It genuinely means a lot and really pushes me to keep going, even when I'm tired and weary!_

…

"Robert, hi! Am I late?" Matthew hurried himself around the table, shaking the older man's hand as he did so.

"No, not at all! I was early, in fact, miraculously!" Robert grinned. "Things have been rather hectic lately."

"Oh, I'm sure. I know how busy you are. Thanks so much for meeting with me." Matthew said appreciatively as he sat down on the chair opposite Robert.

"No problem; I'm eager to hear about your plans. I'm just sorry I wasn't able to do dinner with you, and sorry that these drinks are so late." Robert apologised.

"Meeting me for drinks is more than enough." Matthew smiled gratefully. "Although I just realised as I walked in- I completely forgot to bring you the latest draft of my business plan. But I can explain it all to you, verbally." He added earnestly.

"Don't worry, just drop it off to me whenever you can. And I always prefer verbal explanations to pie-charts." Robert smiled, beckoning the waiter over. "We'll have two Jack Daniels' and a strawberry Daiquiri, please." He told the pristinely-dressed waiter, who nodded politely and promptly left.

"Strawberry Daiquiri?" Matthew asked, confused by the choice of a third drink.

"Oh don't worry, that's not for either of us." Robert chuckled. "I invited Mary along too – she said you've gotten to know each other a bit so I thought it'd be nice for her to join us."

Matthew felt his pulse quicken. "Oh, wonderful." He smiled, hoping he didn't appear too enthusiastic.

"She's in the ladies' room, but she should- ah, here she is."

Matthew followed Robert's gaze to see Mary approaching the table, and he felt much the same way as he had the first time he saw her- she was stunning. He could make out a tiny amount of skin between her crop-top and high-waisted skirt, and quickly averted his eyes.

"Hello, Matthew." Mary greeted him rather formally, although her eyes were twinkling. "I hope you don't mind me joining you." She said cheekily, her eyes revealing that she knew full well that her presence was very welcome.

"Not at all." Matthew replied politely, his eyes confirming her thoughts.

The trio talked easily over drinks, the main topic of discussion being potential investors and plans for Matthew's venture, but jokes were shared and Robert decided to unearth some tales from Mary's childhood, much to Mary's embarrassment.

When the last of his scotch was drained, Robert announced he should be making a move as he had a meeting the next day which he needed to prepare for. Much to Matthew's relief, he suggested to Mary that she should stay behind and have dinner with Matthew, as it was already 9pm and neither of them had eaten yet.

"The service here is pretty good." Mary commented after their main meals were served to them with impressive speed.

"It is." Matthew agreed. "If only there was some way we could show our appreciation…oh, I know- you could do a cheer!" He goaded.

Mary glared at him as she took a bite of her salmon. Robert had told Matthew of how Mary had taken cheerleading classes when she was sixteen, and Matthew was now seemingly unable to talk of anything else.

"Like I said," Mary began sternly, "my mother is American– I had no choice in the matter, and I gave it up as soon as I could. Can we please drop it, now?"

Matthew merely watched her gleefully as she ate, his mood buoyed by Mary's presence. "Do you still have your uniform?"

Mary looked up at him and raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "Why?"

Matthew shrugged innocently, but it was clear he was thinking something rather impure. At Mary's persistent stare, he relented. "I was just curious to see what you'd look like in it." His voice was lower than usual and much more flirtatious than usual, causing Mary's heart to beat much faster than usual.

"I'm afraid I don't have it anymore." She replied casually, focussing on cutting her asparagus and neutralising the conversation. She could feel Matthew's smile as he looked at her, no doubt amused by the blush creeping across her face and neck, but eventually he too turned his attention to his meal.

A few minutes passed, the two of them eating and sipping their drinks, stealing glances at each other while the other wasn't looking, the sexual tension setting them on edge.

"Did you come here straight from work?" Mary enquired, her tone polite and reserved, as she decided to talk rather than dwell on how sublimely handsome he was.

"Yes, I did." Matthew replied. "It's a bit of a crazy week. I was lucky to get out in time to meet you and Robert for drinks. The firm have put me up in a hotel this week, close to the office, to make sure I can stay as late as possible in the evenings and arrive as early as possible the next morning. And pop in in the middle of the night if need be." He added rather resentfully.

"Golly." Mary responded, her eyebrows raised. "That sounds quite intense. I'm sure this is spurring you on to get the career-move sorted." She smiled.

Matthew nodded vigorously as he chewed. "Definitely. By the way, I wanted to thank you again for all your help-"

"Matthew, stop thanking me, please." Mary said somewhat bashfully. He really was too nice to her.

"I will _not_ stop thanking you." Matthew insisted fondly. "It means a great deal to have your support." Mary stilled as she saw the way he was looking at her; there was gratitude in his expression, but something else too…"And your father's support, as well." Matthew added quickly. He didn't know why, but he was being unintentionally flirtatious and affectionate towards Mary this evening. Through his words, his tone of voice, the way he looked at her- it was all slipping out before he had time to realise.

"Well, you _are_ his prize pupil." Mary said lightly, and she suddenly felt unsure whether she actually wanted the conversation with Matthew to be neutral or not. Matthew was showing her a special kind of attention tonight, and she found herself eager for more of it.

The remainder of their meal was filled with their typical mixture of jibes and thoughtful remarks. One thing that separated this dinner from all of their other encounters, however, was the gradual heat building between them over the course of the evening. Their glances held more intensity, with hints of promise and anticipation that they were both too afraid to consciously acknowledge. Their teasing comments were spoken with an undercurrent of flirtation and they inadvertently leaned in towards each other over the course of the evening.

"Am I boring you?" Matthew joked, seeing Mary check her watch for the second time in five minutes.

"No, it's just that I need to be at the airport in a few hours." Mary explained, inwardly sighing at the thought of work. It had been blissful to spend a couple of hours with no anxiety or stress, simply enjoying Matthew's company and the warmth growing between them. "I need to make sure I have enough time to go home, grab my suitcase, and get a cab to Heathrow."

"Oh yeah, I forgot about your flight. Why are you going to Austria, again?" Matthew asked, politely signalling to the waiter to bring him their bill.

"Apparently we need to do a re-shoot of some of my campaign photos." Mary elaborated with an eye-roll. "As if I don't have a million other things to do at the moment."

"And, naturally, Austria is the most convenient and logical location for the backdrop of a British department store." Matthew observed drily.

"It seems so." Mary raised an eyebrow. "And God knows why they chose a flight in the middle of the night right before a photoshoot. I need my beauty sleep."

"You, of all people, don't need to rely on beauty sleep." Matthew engaged that devastatingly charming smirk of his, and Mary felt herself flush profusely. "Are you going to be alright getting home?" He asked, his tone quickly switching to that of an attracted suitor to that of a concerned friend.

"I'll be fine." Mary smiled in assurance, flattered by his unrelenting attentiveness. "Oh, before I forget- I know Dad said to give him the newest business plan but, to be honest, I'm not sure when he'll find the time to look over it in the next few weeks."

"Yeah, I figured." Matthew nodded in agreement. "You've only got about ten days until the launch."

"Don't remind me." Mary warned playfully. "Why don't you hand it over to me and I'll look over it on the plane journey?"

"Are you sure?" Matthew asked, knowing how much Mary had on her plate. Mary nodded in the affirmative. "That would be great. It's in my hotel room at the moment, actually- do you want to stop over and grab it?"

"Sounds good. It's on my way home anyway." Mary smiled as Matthew put his card down to pay the bill.

Matthew watched Mary's expression with interest as he showed her into his temporary residence. He suspected that she'd envisaged this 'hotel' as one of the four- or five-star buildings that she was accustomed to, in contrast to the hostel-like accommodation he was actually staying in.

"This is…cosy." Mary managed to find a silver lining, prompting Matthew to laugh.

"This is what most normal folk think of when they hear the word 'hotel'." Matthew explained with deliberate condescension, knowing it would elicit a glare.

"Then you'll have an eye-opening experience next week when you get to see what your social superiors refer to as 'hotels'." Mary bit back, alluding to the art exhibition which she was being made to attend as part of her publicity drive, and which Matthew was invited to as a legal representative of the hotel.

Matthew merely grinned back at her as he went to retrieve the folder.

"You keep your business plan on your bedside table?" Mary raised an eyebrow at Matthew, taking the folder from his hands. "That's an interesting choice of bedtime reading."

"I'm a very conscientious young man. I like to think things through properly before acting on them." Matthew replied, his face a picture of boyish innocence. It was overtly feigned, of course, but it made him look even more endearing to Mary. "This bloody tie." Matthew complained, pulling the offending garment down in attempt to loosen it, but only succeeding in further tightening the knot. "It's been bothering me all day but I can't undo it." He huffed.

Mary laughed as she watched Matthew irritate himself by means of his tie.

"What's so funny? Are you laughing at my sartorial taste again?" Matthew asked with mock-hurt, now using both hands to try to untie the knot.

"I actually happen to like that tie." Mary said defensively, but with amusement in her voice. "And I'm worried that you'll tear it apart with the way you're going."

Matthew watched as she set the folder down and walked over to him. She stood a mere foot away- no, less than that- and reached up to take hold of his tie. He looked down as her slender fingers hooked into the knot, tugging and trying to loosen it. He looked upwards and smiled when he saw her bite her lip in concentration. His eyes moved down, taking in her hair, her neck, her waist…each part of her somehow more bewitching and alluring than the last.

Mary moved herself closer to him in order to get a better look at what she was doing. The unintended but welcome consequence was that she could now feel the heat radiating from Matthew's body. Feeling her eyes drawn upwards, she met his gaze. It was penetrating. He'd never looked so desirable- _nobody_ ever had. She swallowed, unknowingly arousing Matthew even more. He was intoxicated, drugged by her.

Before either of them knew how it happened, they were kissing. Passion coursed through their veins as they licked and sucked at each other's mouth, their hands clutching and raking over the other's body. Matthew's hand daringly slipped beneath her top, his bare fingers exploring the skin of her back, sending chills down her spine. Mary reluctantly tore her hands away from where they had been in the midst of his soft, golden hair, to shed him of his blazer. Her progress was slowed by the divine feel of Matthew's warm mouth on her neck, and his hands journeying down her body.

"Matthew." Mary breathed after a few moments, her tone irritated.

"What is it?" Matthew whispered against her shoulder, the skin of which he'd been examining as if it were some delicate treasure.

"Your belt." Mary complained, and he realised she was struggling to unfasten the buckle. Perhaps her fingers weren't so nimble after all.

"You're useless, aren't you?" Matthew teased, and they shared a small, breathy laugh.

"Only when it comes to unfastening zips and buckles." Mary replied, riveted by Matthew's hands as she watched him remove the leather belt from around his waist.

"Then let me help you." Matthew offered, his voice as deliciously low as ever. Mary's throat dried up as she grasped his meaning.

She stood, almost paralysed by her own desire, as Matthew undid the buttons down the front of her small top, her breathing quickening as his hands brushed against her breasts. He found the zip on the side of her skirt and slid it down. The garment swiftly fell from her hips, landing in a pool on the carpeted floor. Matthew himself almost came undone at the sight of Mary before him, in nothing but her underwear.

His eyes closed in pleasure at the sensations created by Mary continuing to undress him, and the feel of her exposed skin under his palms and fingers and lips. The momentary lapse of contact necessitated by Mary removing his shirt was soon over, and they clung together as they fell on the small bed.

"God, Mary." Matthew practically groaned as he pulled away from her mouth. The feeling of her writhing beneath him, of her cleavage pressing against his bare chest and her legs shimmying the trousers down his, was almost too much to handle. He was overwhelmed by her.

Savouring her became more important than satisfying his primal desires, and he slowed down his movements. He took the time to address all those unbidden, taboo thoughts and curiosities he'd been having about her. Discovering the feminine scent of her neck, feeling how silken and soft her torso was, appreciating the suppleness of her firm breasts as her chest raised off the bed to meet his mouth.

"Matthew…" Mary whimpered, her body squirming as Matthew explored her with agonising languidness. She'd never felt such a strong craving for anybody before. He was sending her into a fervour, a mania which needed to be quelled immediately. She reached for one of his hands, which had just carefully unfastened her bra and cast it aside, and guided his fingers between her legs.

Matthew leaned up to watch Mary's face as he touched her, but his head soon dropped to her chest with a moan as he felt her. Overcome by a new sense of urgency, they moved quickly. Within a matter of seconds they were both totally unclothed, joined at the mouths once more. They were being pulled by a current too strong to fight against.

Mary would later remember how Matthew pulled away before entering her, making sure that she wanted what he wanted. Matthew would never forget how her legs instantly wrapped themselves around his waist, linked at the ankles, helping push him even further inside her as they sped up. They would both forever recall the precise sound of the other's groans and moans in their ear, and how it escalated their release.

It ended in a prolonged explosion, filled with conflicting yet compatible emotions; the most sensuous, comforting, thrilling, erotic, blissful and loving experience either of them had ever had.

…

"Is it bad that I want you again?" Mary whispered against Matthew's lips. He was still inside her, her legs still around his lean torso, albeit more lazily. It wasn't that she hadn't been satisfied- not at all. It was purely that her need for him, which had been pent up and unnoticed until now, was so fierce.

Matthew felt the need to take her lips in his once more before responding. "No." He kissed her again. "But shouldn't we talk?"

"Later." Mary breathed, rolling them both over.

…

"Do you want to talk now?" Mary panted, peering at Matthew.

"Give me a minute." Matthew responded, still breathing heavily, causing Mary to smile smugly at the effect she'd had on him. "Jesus Christ." Matthew breathed, rubbing his hand over his face as he tried to settle his nerves.

Some time later- Matthew wasn't sure how long- he awoke. He hadn't realised he'd fallen asleep. The bed was empty. Had he imagined his time with Mary? No- he could still taste her on his lips, her scent was still in the air. But where was she?

Turning to fetch his phone to call her, he saw a note on his bedside table.

_Matthew,_

_Dad just called- turns out I'm getting a slightly earlier flight than originally planned. It also turns out you're a much heavier sleeper than I'd imagined. If you still want to talk, we should meet in person when we can- I don't think we should have that conversion over the phone…_

_Mary_

…

Mary put her seat back and tried to get some sleep as she flew over Western Europe. Slumber was not forthcoming, however; all of her thoughts were of her evening with Matthew, and of the thousand notes she wrote out before settling on one, for lack of time. She'd initially suggested giving him a call when she landed in Austria- but changed her mind. It was presumptuous to believe that he'd still want to speak to her in the morning- perhaps he'd see their night as some horrible mistake. He was _married_, after all. They both were! And what would she say, on the phone?

These thoughts plagued her mind as she eventually drifted off to sleep, to her dreams of Matthew.

…

_A/N: I hope this didn't disappoint! I know you've all been really patient with me and with the developments of this story. A lot of the chapters so far have leaned heavily on insight and the strong connection between Matthew and Mary, so I wanted to make this chapter different- more lustful, in a way (except we know that it's not mere lust because of everything that has happened before this point.)_

_The next stage in the story would obviously be chapter 1, so the next chapter will look at what happened after the events of chapter 1. Please let me know your thoughts! xxx_


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: guys, I'm so sorry for the long wait! But more than that, I'm so, so thankful for all of your lovely, wonderful reviews! As I've said before, it truly does motivate me to know that you all are eager to read more. I didn't expect people to connect to the story so much but I'm very glad that you do. xxx_

…

Mary's mind was racing. There was a tumult of emotions inside her, making it impossible for her to focus on the inane conversation taking place around her. She and Matthew had just been together for a second time (technically it was the third, she recalled happily, but it was the second separate occasion). This confirmed that what they shared wasn't a mere dalliance to distract Matthew from his worries- and she was indescribably relieved. She knew that Matthew wasn't the kind of man to play around and make reckless mistakes- he'd told her on that first night together that he didn't like to act without thinking things through, after all- but something in the depths of Mary Crawley's over-active mind had kept her concerned about what she meant to him. Now, it was indisputable. They were in love!

They had abruptly ended their clandestine rendezvous upon hearing footsteps approaching the room. The footsteps had passed by without consequence, but they had decided it would be safest to re-enter the main event hall. Mary was one of the evening's notable guests, and a prolonged absence would not go unnoticed. The last thing they needed was any public suspicion to be raised, not when they still hadn't had the chance to discuss matters between themselves.

So now Mary found herself back in the midst of superficial people talking about superficial things, trying her hardest to tear her eyes away from the blue-eyed beauty at the other end of the room. A while passed, and she noticed him discreetly trying to signal to her (not that he needed to try very hard to capture her attention). He pointed his head towards the doorway before turning and walking through it. Quickly draining her glass of champagne and making the excuse to her companions of needing a top-up, Mary followed suit.

"What is it?" She smiled as she approached him in the corridor. She doubted Matthew wanted another tryst in an unoccupied room, but she wondered if he'd been finding it as difficult to be apart as she had been.

"We need to talk." Matthew said in a hushed voice, despite the absence of anybody else around them.

"We do." Mary agreed reluctantly. Part of her wanted to remain in the bubble of bliss she'd been in for the last sixty minutes and ignore the complications surrounding their new situation. But the more sensible, more traditionally 'Mary Crawley' part of her knew it was a conversation that needed to be had. "We should probably talk tonight. I don't think I can hang on any longer." She said honestly.

"I agree." Matthew smiled, glad that it wasn't just him who felt that way. The days that had passed since their last encounter were torturous for them both, brimming with questions and concerns about what it all meant. "It looks like things are starting to wrap up in there." He peeked back into the event hall, which guests had been gradually filtering out of.

"If you wait here and call a cab then I can show my face for another fifteen minutes or so and leave." Mary suggested. "Ash is away for the night." She implicitly offered a venue for their discussion.

Matthew frowned slightly. "I'm not sure how comfortable I am going back to your house, to be honest. It wouldn't feel right. I even skipped rugby practice last week." He admitted. Seeing the husband of the woman he'd spent a passionate night with was outside the scope of his moral compass.

"You're right." Mary closed her eyes and shook her head, annoyed with herself for once again forgetting the reality of the situation. She had always been so pragmatic and able to separate her mind from her emotions- but something about Matthew, something about the insurmountable happiness he'd given her, made that bubble of hers increasingly difficult to pop. "Where could we go?"

Matthew's eyes roamed the middle-distance for a few moments as he racked his brain. He knew of a pub nearby which was open late, but he didn't want to have this conversation in public, especially given their attire. "I could ask if they have any rooms available here." He proposed with a shrug. He had to stop himself smirking at Mary's involuntarily naughty expression. "Not for _that_." He clarified. "We need to _speak_."

"Fine. You go and book a room, text me the room number and I'll meet you there in a bit." Mary couldn't resist touching his hand before she turned to leave him.

…

"So…" Matthew began tentatively. He and Mary had just walked into the cheapest room he'd been able to find at such short notice (but this would still be the most expensive conversation he'd ever have). They'd positioned themselves so that a few feet of space separated them, her in the armchair and him on the edge of the bed, not knowing if they could trust themselves to be any closer.

"So." Mary repeated. How did one begin conversations such as these? "How do you feel about this- us?" She asked, deliberately putting the ball in his court.

Matthew narrowed his eyes at her, a small smile on his lips. "Now that's not fair- I was going to ask _you_ that."

"Well I asked you first." Mary smiled back mischievously. Matthew had always remarked how even the most testing dialogues between them felt lightened, owing to the other's presence.

"I feel like…my relationship with you is…different to any other one that I've ever had." Matthew stumbled, his articulate nature lapsing when faced with verbalising his feelings towards Mary. How could words do his emotions justice?

Mary nodded in response. "We see each other." She said simply.

Matthew raised an eyebrow when she didn't elaborate. "I'm sorry?" He asked politely.

"We _see_ each other." Mary reiterated. "It's strange- we're so different in so many ways. The way we grew up, our interests, our opinions on things…" Her lips curled upwards as she remembered a particularly heated debate from a fortnight ago on the benefits of the monarchy. "Logically, I shouldn't have any clue who you are as a person or what you're about. Yet, I feel like I know you better than anybody else. I feel like it just…_clicks_." She glanced up to see Matthew looking at her with that smitten expression on his face. It made her melt.

"We see each other." Matthew echoed her words, now with an understanding of what they meant. It was true- in defiance of rationality, they seemed to be so utterly connected and in sync with each other on a level that he hadn't known existed.

"What do you think we should do?" Mary's voice jarred him out of his reflections.

Matthew hesitated. He felt like he knew what he wanted, and he was fairly sure that Mary wanted the same thing, but it was such a big idea to vocalise. It intimidated him to some extent. "I want to be with you." He said honestly, although he refrained from phrasing the remainder of his thought.

"I want that too." Mary smiled gently, but also grew uneasy at the implications of that desire. They couldn't properly be together unless…

"So I suppose that means…" Matthew trailed off again. He sighed frustratedly, irritated by his own cowardice. "We'd need to break things off with Ash and Sophie." The words rushed out of his mouth. He was surprised to feel a sense of relief at his words. The question of ending his marriage had been lingering at the back of his mind for a while, but he'd never consciously acknowledged it. He'd been uncertain whether his love for Sophie had become subdued, ready to be re-ignited, or whether it had been extinguished. Then, Mary had come along and had made the answer clear to him. He couldn't harbour love for anyone other than Mary.

Mary merely hummed in agreement. Nobody in the history of her family, which dated back to the English nobility centuries ago, had ever been divorced. That's not to say that her family was filled with happy marriages- far from it. Her parents were happy together, but she knew of scores of cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents and ancestors who'd borne their marital misery with the "dignity" which Mary now saw as "stupidity". Although, she reasoned, if she'd never met Matthew she would probably have been one of those Crawleys who stayed with their spouse for the sake of it. With that realisation, she grew even more grateful for him. He was giving her a life worth living.

Matthew was wary of her lacklustre response. "Are you _sure_ this is what you want?" He asked softly. The last thing he wanted was for Mary to make a mistake. Regardless of how much he ached for her to be with him, he would stand by and watch her continue her marriage if that was what she wanted.

"Of course!" Mary almost sprang out of her chair with the force of her conviction. Searching for the words to convince Matthew of her feelings, she settled upon the simplest, but most potent expression. "I love you." She said. "Very much."

"I love you too." Matthew replied after a heartbeat. They were several feet apart, but this was the closest they'd ever felt to each other. They looked at each other for a while, just taking the other in, reflecting on the words they'd just spoken.

"Do you remember when we spoke about what makes a good marriage?" Matthew asked. Mary nodded. "And I said I'd realised recently all these things that a marriage needs to have? It was _you_ who made me realise that." He told her. "You showed me all of that."

Mary felt like she could burst. Nobody had ever spoken to her like this before, but she knew that those loving words would mean nothing coming from anybody other than Matthew. His use of the word "marriage", however, made her nervous.

"Are you saying you want us to-" She began, before Matthew hurriedly cut her off.

"No, no, no!" Matthew jumped in, then felt guilty for sounding as if the idea of marrying her was so objectionable. "It's not that I don't feel strongly enough about you." He assured her. "But I think- given what happened with our current marriages, and given that we've not been in a proper relationship yet- it's probably wise to take things slowly." He felt relieved when Mary agreed. The extent and depth of his feelings for Mary outweighed those of his feelings for anyone else, including his own wife. But he desperately didn't want to hurry things with her and unnaturally progress their situation so much as to cause damage. If there was one relationship he wanted to cherish and savour and nurture as much as possible, it was his relationship with Mary.

"When should we tell them?" Mary asked quietly.

Matthew blew the air out of his cheeks. This wasn't going to be easy at all. Broaching the subject of divorce with Sophie would probably be the most difficult thing he'd ever do. But if it was all in aid of being with Mary, that would ease the burden. "Soon?"

"Not too soon." Mary countered. "I've got all this centenary stuff to deal with over the next couple of weeks. I don't think I could handle that _and_ initiating divorce proceedings at the same time. But as soon as it all settles down?" Mary didn't want to prolong this process any longer than was absolutely necessary. She felt like she'd be dragging her husband along if she remained silently married to him. While their marriage was devoid of true love and care, she'd spent the last three years of her life with Ash, and had been married to him for months. Another reason for not wanting to delay was that she didn't know how long she could wait to be with Matthew properly, now that she'd had a taste of what it would be. They'd experienced every facet of each other- at work, socially, with their family, as a best friend, as a lover- and there wasn't a single disappointment. She loved him in the most whole, complete way possible.

"Yes, that sounds sensible." Matthew affirmed. He continued gazing at Mary, as she did at him, and he suddenly became very aware of what they'd done earlier that evening. He became very aware of it because he was feeling the urge to do it again. Having this conversation, talking things through, made him realise just how much he adored her. It was difficult for him to express, but he was sure he could convey the depth of his feelings physically better than he could verbally. He could see Mary's chest rising and falling slightly faster. Perhaps she was thinking the same thoughts as he was.

"And until then?" Mary asked breathily, her voice low.

Matthew inhaled deeply. "It might be best if we hold back with…_that_." He suggested cautiously. He didn't want Mary to underestimate how much he wanted her, but he wasn't the sort of man to consciously embark on an extra-marital affair. He had respect for himself, for Mary, for his wife, and for Ash.

"I had a feeling you might say that." Mary smiled gently. As much as the thought of her not being able to touch her darling Matthew for the next few weeks upset her, the fact that he wanted to remain respectful of their marriages made her admire him even more. "But…" She began.

"But what?" Matthew prompted.

"I understand that you don't want us to have a full-blown 'affair' that involves us sleeping together because it would be immoral- and I feel the same way." She explained. "But won't we be having an affair anyway, in a sense?" She queried. Matthew paused to think, so she elaborated. "We've already fallen in love with each other- we can't exactly put that on hold until we tell our respective spouses."

"No, we can't." Matthew agreed. "I suppose we can't control our feelings. But, for me, the immorality stems from how we act, rather than how we feel. Our relationship for the next two or three weeks will just have to return to how it was a fortnight ago." He said matter-of-factly.

"Do you really think we can do that?" Mary raised an eyebrow at his certainty.

"Of course." Matthew frowned. They hadn't shown much restraint during their last two encounters, but he was sure they were mature and responsible enough to behave as appropriately as possible. "You don't think we can?"

"Matthew, I hate to say it but I'm finding it extremely difficult to stop myself from jumping on you right now." Mary said bluntly, and Matthew started laughing, a blush colouring his cheeks. "And we've only been in the same room for about ten minutes." She couldn't help grinning at his embarrassed laughter. "Now that we've been intimate together, my behaviour towards you is necessarily changed by it. I can't go back to treating you as a regular chum. It's irreversible."

"A 'regular chum'?" Matthew sounded almost insulted. "You used to think of me as a 'regular chum'?"

Mary rolled her eyes. "Well, not precisely that, but you know what I mean. I was attracted to you but I never thought of you as a passionate being because I couldn't- I simply didn't know you in that way. But now I do, so that's part of how I see you now. I don't think I can go back to treating you how I did before, which means we'll inevitably be inappropriate together from now on."

"A 'passionate being?" Matthew sounded incredibly pleased with himself. "You see me as a 'passionate being'?"

Mary sighed in mock-exasperation. "I said that's a _part_ of how I see you. Stop being so full of yourself." She goaded. "Can we please get back to the point I'm making?"

"Alright, fine." Matthew conceded, although he was still smirking smugly. "I see what you mean, but like I said, there's a limit to what we can control. I don't think there's an easy answer to this. I'm not ashamed or guilty to be in love with you, but it's just a case of not adding insult to injury for Ash and Sophie."

Mary watched him fondly as he spoke. He was intelligent and wise and expressive, and he felt safe with him. She already thought of him as hers, and of herself as belonging to him, and she felt deflated every time it hit her that that wasn't the case. Not yet, anyway.

Matthew was looking back at her, his eyes twinkling in the dim light of the room. His lips were parted and he seemed on edge, as if he was about to speak or move.

"I'm going to head off." He said abruptly, standing up and buttoning his blazer.

"W-Why?" Mary was startled by this sudden announcement. She stood up and approached him as he backed towards the door.

"Because-" Matthew halted her approach by holding his arm out to maintain the distance between them. He glanced down at the floor and smiled shyly. "I'm finding it increasingly difficult not to act on what my mind is screaming at me to do." He admitted, unable to stop his eyes drifting over her lips.

"Oh." Mary struggled to suppress the heat building inside her as their eyes raked over each other. Her body was craving that feeling of being with him. Perhaps his departure _was_ the best course of action to avoid them doing anything rash. "I'll speak to you soon, then?"

"Of course." Matthew's smile was forced; all of his mental focus was on cementing his feet to the ground so that he wouldn't sweep her up in his arms and kiss her deeply. Deciding he needed to leave now before his resolve crumbled, he opened the door and stepped through it.

Mary took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, crestfallen that she couldn't be free with him, but the promise of a few weeks' time kept her spirits somewhat buoyed.

"Mary."

Matthew's voice called. She looked up. He was standing just outside the doorway, his hand on the doorknob.

"I'll make you happy." Matthew promised.

"I know." Mary smiled breathlessly, her eyes watering. "You already are."

…

_A/N: this was quite a difficult chapter to write, as now Mary and Matthew are both aware of what is happening between them, and I wanted them to remain the good, moral people they are in canon. So please let me know what you think._

_Also, I will try my best to update soon, but my job has gotten totally crazy and I don't even always have weekends free anymore, so I apologise in advance if there is another delay! xxx_


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: once again, thanks so much for your reviews and support! I'm sorry I don't have time to reply to them, even though I do really want to. Mercifully, I haven't been that busy lately so have been able to update! Xxx_

…

"Do you want to do anything for your birthday, babe?" Sophie asked as she helped Matthew load the dishwasher after dinner. "You haven't mentioned it at all and it's only a couple of weeks away!"

Matthew paused momentarily as he realised his own birthday had slipped his mind. "It's alright, I don't think I want to do anything, to be honest." With everything going on in his life at the moment, he didn't have the motivation or energy to dedicate towards celebrating his twenty-seventh birthday. He was busier at work due to the pre-Christmas rush to get deals closed and loose ends tied up, which meant he was growing increasingly stressed over the lack of progress being made with the theatre; time was running out for him to take it over if it was to be saved. But most importantly, there was Mary. As hard as he tried to fight it, thoughts of her continually distracted him.

He'd left her in the hotel room that night with the best of intentions- he loved her, but he had been determined to think of her and speak to her in as neutral a manner as possible, until matters could be resolved with their respective spouses. It turned out his optimism had been naïve; Mary had been correct in her prediction that their perceptions of each other would be changed from now on. Intimate, romantic visions of her invaded his mind seemingly unprompted. She was impossible to escape- even an insignificant remark by a character in a book was enough to engulf him in memories of their conversations and shared moments. Both logic and morals told him that such frequent and wistful thoughts of her were improper and should be tempered, but his visceral reaction to her was so strong that it overrode his deep-rooted principles. Worse still, he _enjoyed_ being so consumed by her. Indeed, she was positively getting him through these difficult days. They hadn't seen each other in the six days since their encounter in the hotel, and had hardly spoken, in the hope that absence would make the heart less desirous and enable them to focus on their commitments.

"You should!" Sophie insisted. "All you've been doing lately is working. Everytime I look at you, you look worried about something or other. Let's do something that will distract you and give you a chance to relax." She smiled at him, reaching out to touch his forearm as he dried his hands with a tea-towel. Matthew flinched involuntarily, then cursed himself. He tried to resist reacting negatively to his wife's affection, but, like everything in his life at the moment, he couldn't control it. He supposed that his mind and his heart had both acknowledged that he wasn't in love with Sophie, that it was wrong for anyone to touch him in that way other than Mary. He also suspected, however, that something in him was deliberately making him flinch in that way, so as not to mislead Sophie. That is, he didn't want her to believe him to still be in love, only for him to suddenly spring the news that he wanted a divorce. Such a turn of events would be more unfair on her than the situation already was.

"My birthday's on the Saturday, I think, so I won't be at work anyway. That'll be enough." Matthew replied, hoping that this idea of hers would be dropped soon.

"It'll be fun to go out somewhere and do something, though. Organise an evening out!" Sophie suggested eagerly, although her vague proposals were irritating Matthew. The way he saw it, she was trying to convince him to do something he clearly didn't want to do without providing him with any actual suggestions, thereby leaving him with yet another problem to deal with.

"It will be more enjoyable for me to stay at home and take it easy." Matthew said patiently, busying himself with cleaning the oven in order to put an end to the conversation.

"I really think you should do something." Sophie persisted.

"_Why_?" Matthew snapped. "Why are you being so pushy with this?" He demanded, his voice raised. He instantly felt guilty when he saw the startled and upset look on Sophie's face. This wasn't the first time this week that his patience had expired prematurely with her. It was obvious that she'd simply been keen to celebrate with him, and rightly so - over the last few months they'd hardly spent time together outside of the house. But during their conversation, a niggling voice in his mind had been saying 'Mary would never be like this. Mary would give you concrete ideas, which she would then help execute, and would charm you at the same time'. Sophie hadn't done anything wrong - she just…wasn't Mary. That wasn't enough, however, to entitle Matthew to raise his voice. "I'm sorry." He apologised softly, rubbing his temple with his left hand. "I'm just very tired at the moment. And stressed, as you know."

Sophie merely nodded slightly in acknowledgement, but hurt and concern were etched on her face.

"I'll sort something out. A dinner, perhaps." Matthew offered, to make amends.

"Well, you know, nobody's forcing you." Sophie clarified, a bitter edge to her tone.

"I know." Matthew did feel distinctly like he was being cornered into arranging an event, but didn't want to prolong the argument. "I'm not doing much after work tomorrow so I might walk around Shoreditch and see if I can find a good restaurant or bar." He offered with a slight smile.

"Alright." Sophie said curtly, before brushing past Matthew and out of the door.

…

"Since when do you read so much?" Ash asked with a nod to the book clutched in Mary's dainty hands.

"I thought it would be a good way to distract myself from the stress of Crawley's." Mary replied coolly, turning the page. In actual fact, her new pursuit stemmed from her desire to be closer to Matthew. They sensibly decided to limit their interactions over the coming weeks, but she was very aware of a gaping hole in her daily life, which she sought to fill by reading his favourite books, watching his recommended documentaries, or listening to his preferred music.

"What is that, anyway?" Ash asked, tying up the laces on his trainers.

"It's a book on Georgian architecture." Mary responded nonchalantly.

"Why the hell are _you_ reading _that_?" Ash scoffed.

"Because I have interests outside of profit-making and attending galas." Mary bit back, insulted that her efforts to be more cultured weren't commended. In truth, of course, she was only reading about Palladian architecture because Matthew had expressed his admiration for the style a few weeks ago, as they went for a walk through the streets of West London.

"Alright, well I'm going to rugby practice." Ash announced, oblivious to Mary's tone.

"How is that going, by the way?" Mary attempted to conceal the extent of her curiosity.

"Erm…it's alright, I guess." Ash replied, confused. His wife never really enquired into his hobbies, and he never really enquired into hers. They lived together, but their lives were generally separate, and he thought it worked best that way. "A couple of the guys have dropped out recently, though, so we're trying to find replacements."

"Oh?" Mary's curiosity was piqued further.

"Yeah. One guy, Joe, just had his first baby and his wife is nagging him to stay at home and help out." Ash explained, and Mary was vexed that Joe's wife was seen as unreasonable for such a justifiable request. "And Matthew- you remember the guy that came round here once?" Ash asked, ignorant of all that had passed since that day.

"Oh, yeah, I remember him." Mary replied casually, desperately trying to quell her racing heartbeat.

"He dropped out a few days ago. Didn't say why." Ash shrugged as he gathered up his kit bag. "See you later." He said abruptly.

"I'll see you on Monday evening." Mary said pointedly, knowing that her husband would have forgotten all about her schedule.

"Why?" Ash turned back with a frown.

"I've got that event in Bath this weekend. My train's in a couple of hours." Mary reminded him. Bath was the original site of the Crawley's department store a hundred years earlier; it had become successful very quickly and swiftly relocated to central London, but Robert had felt it important to mark his grandfather's achievement in the place it had first started.

"Oh yeah. Hope it goes well." Ash gave his usual cursory remark to all of her endeavours before turning to leave.

Mary sighed as she watched him shut the front door, thinking how differently Matthew would have parted from her.

…

Late that night, long after her father and the rest of the promotional team had gone to sleep, Mary was sat on the edge of her bed, frantically trying to commit words to memory.

Robert, Mary and their employees had been welcomed to Bath with open arms by their distant cousins (also Crawleys), who lived in a large house on the outskirts of the city. They didn't know each other very well, and Mary suspected their hospitality was in aid of a potential share of the business, but Robert scolded her for being so cynical and insisted that they accept their relatives' kind offer of a place to stay.

On Sunday afternoon, a lunch was taking place to commemorate the centenary and Mary had been designated as the speaker, to recount the establishment of one of Britain's leading department stores and the lessons which people engaged in commerce in Bath could learn from it. And so now she was sat cross-legged on the duvet, in her guest bedroom, attempting to simultaneously rewrite and learn the hastily-scribbled words on her sheets of paper. A knock on the door jolted her out of her revision.

"Excuse me, Mary?" The voice of Robert's second cousin and the owner of the house, Gerald, called through the door.

"Yes?" Mary replied with a glance at her bedside carriage clock, wondering what she could be needed for at 2.30am.

"Someone's just arrived at the front door, claiming they know you."

"What?" Mary's face creased with a frown. Everyone who was meant to be in Bath this weekend was already here. "Did they want my father?" She asked, guessing that it was one of his other employees. It wouldn't be the first time that Robert would be awakened in the middle of the night for a 'business-related emergency'.

"No, he asked for you specifically." Gerald's voice replied from outside the door, slightly agitated that he'd been woken up in the middle of the night and now the arrogant daughter of his cousin was refusing to open the door to let him speak to her properly. "He says his name's Matthew Crawley but I don't remember being related to anyone called 'Matthew'."

Mary's heart leapt up out of her chest. Matthew was here? Was something wrong, had something happened? A thousand thoughts raced through her mind all at once as she jumped off the bed and flung open the bedroom door. "Where is he?" She asked urgently, forgetting about maintaining her composure.

"He's waiting outside. I didn't want to let a stranger in the house without confirming that you knew him."

"Well I do know him, so let him in." Mary ordered, suddenly frustrated that Matthew wasn't right beside her right now, despite not having expected to even hear from him for a couple more days. Gerald raised his eyebrows at her demand. "Please." She attempted to appease him, only for the sake of having him let Matthew in more quickly.

"Do you want to come downstairs and let him in yourself?" He asked, hinting that it should probably be her to take the trouble to answer the door, given that it was her guest who had turned up unannounced in the middle of the night.

"Can you let him in and send him up here?" Mary requested as politely as she could, not wanting to greet Matthew for the first time in days in front of her father's annoying cousin. "He's helping me with my speech for tomorrow." She explained, realising that asking for a handsome young man to be sent to her bedroom in the middle of the night may trigger suspicions.

"Alright, whatever you wish." Gerald replied bitterly as he trundled back down the stairs, deeply regretting inviting this snobbish woman over to stay in his house.

Mary went back into her bedroom, leaving the door ajar slightly so that she'd be able to hear Matthew's approaching footsteps. She was nervous - why would he travel all the way here unless there was something very serious he needed to tell her? Nevertheless, she couldn't contain her excitement at having him with her again, alone. Her heart, which she felt must have grown weary with all the palpitations of the past fortnight, further increased its speed as she heard him walk up to her door.

"Hey." He smiled, his sweet lop-sided smile, stepping into the room and gently closing the door behind him.

"What are you doing here?" Mary asked, relieved that he didn't appear to be hurt or upset or worried.

"I've been missing you." Matthew explained simply.

Mary looked at him expectantly. Part of her thought 'is that all?' while the other part felt that it was more than enough of a reason. "And?" She prompted.

"I felt like I needed you."

"Past tense?" Mary playfully quirked an eyebrow.

"I _still _need you." Matthew responded with a smirk as he walked towards her.

"Matthew." Mary warned, leaning back slightly as she felt his arms slide around her waist, drawing her to him. "We made a pact about this. No hanky-panky, remember? This is dangerous territory." The authority in her voice diminished with each second she spent looking at his beautiful face.

"I know, I know." Matthew sighed, closing his eyes, and Mary immediately regretted having said anything to make him shut off those gorgeous blue eyes, even for a moment. "I just can't bear being without you." He murmured, those eyes dropping to glance at her mouth as he angled his head slightly. "I love you." A whisper against her lips before he took them in his.

Mary had tried to memorise his kiss, but it was even better than she remembered. He was so tender yet firm with her, his hands placing delicious pressure on her back as he pulled her more completely against him. His lips, and now tongue, were slow but insistent against hers, as if he so desperately wanted to let go but felt like he shouldn't. She took the opportunity to indulge herself in him, delving her fingers into his hair and tugging at it slightly as she moaned.

Some time later, Matthew pulled away. He was breathing heavily, and took one step backwards, although his hands remained gently resting on her hips.

"Sorry." He said. "i know we weren't meant to do that, but i just-"

"Don't apologise." Mary interrupted. She wasn't annoyed that they'd kissed - far from it. Without him, she'd been edging ever closer to the brink of insanity. Any longer without him and she probably would have been pushed over the edge. She stood and looked at him, leaning her head back in order to make a proper assessment of him. His hair was mussed and damp, his coat and scarf had been carelessly thrown on and were now covered in droplets of rain. There was a trail of wet, muddied footprints leading into the bedroom where his shoes had trodden, and Mary smirked wryly as she thought of Gerald's prissy wife's reaction when she saw the stained carpet. Suddenly, she loved Matthew even more - even his footsteps served to make her happy. "How did you get here?" She asked, returning to his wet hair and coat.

"I drove." Matthew replied, shrugging off his coat and placing it on the back of the desk-chair. "But there's nowhere to park around here so I had to pull over about half a mile away and then walk. Oh shit." He added upon seeing the evidence on the cream carpet of his journey in the rain.

"Don't worry about it, I overheard Gerald's wife insulting me earlier so this will be good payback." Mary said dismissively. "How long did it take you to get here, then?" She asked, ignoring Matthew's amused look at her vengeful attitude.

"Erm, about three hours." Matthew replied, removing his shoes to avoid further damage and thinking of what his mother would say if she'd seen the mess he'd caused.

"You drove for three hours and walked in the pouring rain just to see me?" Mary asked disbelievingly, wanting so badly to show him how grateful she was.

"Well it was mainly because I enjoy the scenery along the M4." Matthew teased.

"Of course." Mary rolled her eyes, playing along. "I'm sure I was just an after-thought."

"You will never be that." Matthew turned serious again.

"How did you know where I was?" Mary had mentioned to him that she would be in Bath this weekend, but hadn't provided him with an address.

"I'd been emailing Robert and he told me where you were staying - I'd lied and said that I was visiting a friend in Bath tonight, so he said I should pop in to visit at some point. I suppose he didn't imagine I'd be popping in in the middle of the night, though." Matthew smirked.

"I'm glad you did." Mary said with a glowing smile which made it difficult for Matthew to resist embracing her again.

"So what did 'Gerald's wife' say about you that was so insulting as to warrant ruining her carpet?" He asked as their arms slowly wound around each other.

"She said I was uptight." Mary answered, clearly still irritated by the comment.

"You _are_ uptight." Matthew smirked and kissed her cheek. He said it with such affection that it sounded like a compliment.

"Well she doesn't know me well enough to jump to that conclusion." Mary argued.

"It didn't take me very long to figure that out about you, if I'm honest." Matthew goaded, enjoying the sexual tension which was building as they baited and bickered.

"I thought you came here to be nice to me!" Mary complained.

Matthew chuckled as he leant in to kiss her again. "I said I came here because I missed you, not because I wanted to be nice to you." He corrected.

"Why did you miss me so much?" Mary queried with a tilt of her head. It wasn't like her to brazenly engage in discussions about private feelings, but she'd been wanting Matthew so much recently that she thought she should stock up on his affection, in case she'd have to survive another few days with no contact.

"Lots of reasons." Matthew said softly, his eyes travelling over her face lovingly. "Actually, the other day I was swamped at work and managed to not think of you that much." He recalled, and Mary felt affronted that he seemed pleased with himself for not missing her. "But then, on my way home, I was waiting to cross the road and this bus drove past with an advert for Crawley's on the side of it. It's pretty difficult not to miss you when there's a giant picture of you in a revealing dress being thrust in my face on my daily commute."

Mary smiled smugly. "So the photos got a reaction out of you, then?" She'd initially been hesitant, even perturbed, by pictures of her in 'sexy' clothes being placed all around the country in an effort to draw in younger customers, but it was nice to know that Matthew would definitely be thinking of her at least twice a day.

"Of course they did. I am a heterosexual man, aren't I?" Matthew flirted. "The two guys standing next to me started commenting on how gorgeous you are. I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from gloating about how you're in love with me and how I've had you…three times." His voice had taken on that sultry low quality which gave Mary weak knees in the most delightful way.

"I'm glad you didn't say that. We need to be careful." Mary warned, although her resolve was again crumbled by the man in front of her, and in particular by the memory of their heated encounters.

Impassioned by these vivid memories, she tip-toed enough to capture his mouth with hers, contradicting her own advice. The kiss quickly became raw and needy; Mary blindly pulled at his hair and shirt, and felt his hands slip down to her buttocks. An image of where this was headed sprang into her mind, and it was both greatly welcome and discomforting. Breaking off the kiss, she paused for a moment. "I don't think we should sleep together." She said. Her intentionally resolute tone was undercut by regret. It was agonising to have him here with her, to flirt and tease, without being able to be completely free. Still, she hadn't expected to have this time with him, so she shouldn't grumble, she thought.

Matthew sighed deeply. He'd let himself fall into the trap of believing that they were in a 'legitimate' relationship already. Sex hadn't been the purpose of his visit, but it felt so easy and natural to be amorous with her that he hadn't even realised what was happening. "Yes, you're right." He agreed, stepping away from her completely and turning to face the window. It appeared that he'd tortured himself further by placing himself near her when he wasn't allowed to touch her. No, he corrected himself, being near her in any capacity was always better than being apart. He turned back around, satisfied that the effects of his desire for her on his body had been reduced enough for him to concentrate on a conversation. "Let's talk." He suggested. "Were you in the middle of something?" He asked, spotting the pile of paper on the bed.

"Trying to write my speech for tomorrow." Mary murmured, rubbing her hand across her forehead as reality came crashing down on her. She and Matthew still weren't properly together, and she had a lot of work to do.

"I can help." Matthew offered earnestly. It was an opportunity to assist Mary, who was now demonstrably stressed, whilst allowing him to spend time with her.

"I don't want you to have driven all the way down here only for you to help me devise witty remarks about industry in western England." Mary looked at him sympathetically.

"Nonsense." Matthew said simply, pulling the desk-chair over to the side of the bed and taking a seat. "What have you got so far?" He asked rhetorically as he picked up the scribbled-on papers and began scanning them with his scrutinising legal eye.

Mary climbed back onto the bed and watched him frown in thought as he deciphered her hastily written notes, and smiled.

…

_A/N: as many of you guessed, the abstinence plan which M/M came up with in the last chapter has proven difficult to execute! We'll see how things go from here…thanks for reading xxx_


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: another update from me! Thanks again for your positive feedback, I'm so truly appreciative._

_The first part of this chapter was sort of inspired by last night's Christmas special...in quite subtle ways, though. I don't want to give it away for those who have not seen or heard about it, but it was a bit of a mixed bag for M/M shippers. There were some beautiful moments. For the last few months, I've really felt that whatever happens in canon, it almost doesn't matter that much...we've been given these wonderful characters who have such a strong and interesting and timeless relationship, we are free to do what we want with them. Of course, we should remain consistent with what we've seen of them in canon, but they've been through so much on the show that we have almost endless amounts to work with._

_I don't think I'm explaining myself very well, but what I mean to say is - I almost see canon as another fanfic. It is there for us to enjoy the characters, but we can always produce our own stories using the same characters and their love. I see the characters as being greater than what happens in canon – they go beyond the show. I think it's what happens with all of the great characters in literature, and now in film and television._

_Anyway, I'll stop rambling and let you guys get on with the chapter! Xxx_  
...

It was 7am, and neither Mary nor Matthew had gone to sleep. They'd spent a couple of hours working on the speech, and Matthew had combined his years of careful drafting of legal documents with his knowledge of business and naturally expressive personality to produce some wonderful lines for Mary. She'd insisted that he should be credited in the speech in some way, but he refused, arguing that Mary would have come up with the same, if not better, material had she not been so tired.

Once the final version had been typed up and saved, they made an unspoken agreement to spend the rest of the night (or early morning) talking and indulging themselves in each other's company. They had both briefly nodded off, though; Matthew had used the ensuite for a couple of minutes, only to come back to find Mary nestled against the pillows with her eyes closed. He was under strict instructions to wake her immediately if she did fall asleep – she said she worked best on either a full night's sleep or no sleep at all, as opposed to a couple of hours' sleep which made her groggy – but Matthew decided to wait a few minutes before waking her, just to watch her. Her timeless elegance radiated through even in slumber, and there was a peacefulness about her which he'd not yet seen. He wondered whether anyone else had ever taken the time to appreciate her in this way.

A while later, Mary had made a discreet dash to the kitchen downstairs to fetch them some coffee. She didn't need it herself, but she'd been beginning to see the effects of the three-hour drive and lack of sleep in Matthew's heavy-lidded eyes. Sure enough, upon her return to the bedroom, she discovered that Matthew had managed to fall asleep sitting upright in the desk chair. Setting the hot mugs down on the bedside table, she padded over to him and gently settled herself on his lap. She knew it wouldn't wake him, and she relished the opportunity to observe him close-up as he rested. His appearance always seemed to alternate between boyish sweetness and masculine beauty, and both were reflected in substantial measure in his repose. Softly, she ran her fingers through those locks of hair which were always perched on his forehead, unless copious amounts of gel were used to secure them away from his face. She chuckled quietly as she thought of how much joy and pleasure his hair alone gave her, and lovingly nuzzled his cheek with her nose. He began to stir, and Mary slowly placed small kisses on his cheek, over his forehead, on his nose, and paused as she hovered over his mouth. He was awake now and his arms had found their way around her body, although his eyes were still drowsy. Closing the gap between them, Matthew pressed his lips to hers; it was the most feather-like of touches, barely a kiss at all, but it sent chills down Mary's spine.

"I like waking up to you." Matthew smiled lazily, his face slightly flushed.

"I like waking you up." Mary replied, cradling his face in her hands and stroking her thumb over his cheek. "I'm so glad you came." She whispered.

"Me too." Matthew smiled widely. Mary always admired how unrestrained Matthew was with his emotions, and his freedom with expressing himself was most apparent with his smiles. His whole face would light up, with happiness and love pouring out of him. It was contagious, and Mary was finding herself increasingly free with her own feelings; she'd grown up unsure of how to express herself, and was then trained during her years in business that it was best to detach herself from emotions as much as possible. But Matthew had taught her, in his own subtle, charming way, that allowing yourself to feel was the greatest gift you could give yourself. He had given her something to put a smile on her face when she woke up in the mornings and when she went to bed at night. Life for her thus far had consisted of rigorous schooling, feeling misunderstood by her peers, a demanding job complicated by its familial connections and insincere relationships with men. With Matthew, she was able to be exactly who she was, without worrying about people's opinions of her (or rather, without worrying about making it seem like she didn't care what people thought of her). In his eyes, she was both the truest version of Mary Crawley that anybody had ever known, and the most perfect woman in the world. It was a blessing and a relief to have something so utterly simple – true love – to live for.

"Do you want some coffee?" Mary asked, giggling as Matthew sleepily rubbed his face against her shoulder.

"In a minute." He mumbled against her collarbone. He was too comfortable in the position they were in to disrupt it. "Stop it, Mary, or you'll send me to sleep again." He complained, referring to the way Mary was raking her fingers across the base of his scalp, like a soothing massage.

"I hope you're not planning on driving back home anytime soon." Mary said, removing her fingers from his hair and affectionately rubbing across his shoulders.

"I have to." Matthew replied. "I can't leave my car in Bath and get a train home."

"In that case you're staying here tonight too and driving to London tomorrow." Mary said resolutely.

"I can't do that, Mary."

"Well you're certainly not getting behind a steering wheel when you can barely sit up straight." The firmness in Mary's tone was softened by a grin as Matthew sharply lifted his head up from her shoulder, in an attempt to prove that he was awake enough to drive.

"I can't stay here another night." Matthew repeated, tickling Mary's side as punishment for laughing at him.

"Why not?"

"Your father is expecting me to merely 'pop in' for a cup of tea, not stay here for the entire weekend!" Matthew pointed out. "It'll be difficult enough to explain why I turned up in the middle of the night in the pouring rain."

"We'll say that the friend you were visiting had to leave Bath for a family emergency but forgot to tell you. You couldn't find anywhere else to stay so you thought you'd come here." Mary offered simply.

"Should I be disturbed by your capacity to think up alibis so fluidly?" Matthew asked with mock-concern.

"I think it adds a certain mystery to me which you should find appealing." Mary retorted haughtily, prompting Matthew to laugh. He kissed her neck softly.

"How do we explain where I slept?" He asked, and Mary sighed at his conscientiousness.

"We'll tell them the truth and say we didn't sleep – I told Gerald that you were here to help me with my speech, and that is what you did. Dad won't suspect anything, and I doubt Gerald will discuss it with him, anyway; there's no time to do so." She reassured him.

"I'm quite looking forward to meeting Gerald and Helen." Matthew smirked. Mary had gone into greater detail as to why her hosts irked her so much, and explained her suspicions about their motives for being so helpful. They'd been effusive in their praise of and enthusiasm for the centenary and the work that Robert had done with the department store, and Mary had taken this as conclusive proof of their scheme. Matthew had affectionately chided her for jumping to unfair conclusions before getting to know them, but she still wasn't convinced of their innocence.

"Yes, you can do some digging and find out how big a slice of equity they'd like in Crawley's." Mary dead-panned.

"I'll tell them that you're thinking of offering Gerald a role as your co-manager." Matthew goaded.

"You do that and I'll tell Helen that it was you who wrecked her carpet with muddy footprints." Mary threatened. "She'll kick you out onto the street."

"But then you'd come and rescue me." Matthew stated matter-of-factly.

"Would I?" Mary raised an eyebrow in challenge.

"Of course you would. Because you love me." Matthew reminded her with a wide grin, his eyes sparkling as he spoke the last three words. His smile was infectious, and Mary struggled to keep a straight face to receive the kiss he planted on her lips.

…

Robert had greeted Matthew with surprise. Matthew got the sinking feeling that the older man hadn't actually expected him to turn up at the house. Or maybe he was over-thinking things, and it was simply that Robert's busy schedule had led him to forget about inviting Matthew to visit. Either way, Robert expressed pleasure at seeing him, and expressed pity at his story of arriving in Bath with nowhere to stay.

"I thought I'd come along to the luncheon, if that's alright, and then find somewhere to stay this evening." Matthew offered, hoping that Robert would be kind enough to let him impose in his own accommodation.

"You are more than welcome to attend the luncheon, and I'm sure that Gerald will be able to spare a room for tonight, don't worry." Robert said genially. "Now, I'm afraid I must rush off, I need to go to the venue early to oversee the preparations." He apologised, checking his watch.

"Of course, thanks so much." Matthew said gratefully. "I'll see you later."

The weather had improved immeasurably since the previous night – for an afternoon in late November, it was mild and sunny. So sunny, in fact, that the event organisers and Robert decided to hold the speeches outdoors, in the grounds of the conference centre, to take advantage of the well-kept gardens. Matthew overheard some think-tank consultant mention that holding the event outdoors in the sunlight would encourage optimism towards the prospects of industry in the west of England, and he'd sniggered with Mary at their spurious ways of thinking.

Mary's speech had gone well, and her delivery of it was helped by the fact that the words reminded her of the man who'd helped her to write them. A vision of her future flashed before her eyes; Matthew would accompany her to her business trips, helping, relaxing and supporting her as he had been doing since last night, and Mary would take him back to their home to show him (through words and other means) just how much she appreciated him.

Snapping herself out of these potentially harmful thoughts, she made her way to the dining area, where lunch was being served. There was still a long way to go before her vision could be fulfilled; she had to broach the subject of divorce with a family who looked down upon the notion. Matthew had to end his own marriage with a woman who still loved him. She shook her head clear of these worries – now wasn't the time to dwell on obstacles.

Robert had told the organisers that Mary was bringing a guest, and to arrange another place-setting. It seemed that the organisers had presumed, what with Matthew's surname and the fact that he matched Mary in his good looks, that he was Mary's husband. And so Mary was where she felt she should be, next to Matthew, as the blur of men in suits boomed and guffawed around them.

"Matthew, _stop_!" Mary laughed heartily, gripping Matthew's forearm and trying to push it away as he served comedic amounts of rice and potatoes onto her plate.

"What's going on?" Robert called from across the table. He was smiling along with them as they laughed, but was intrigued by the chemistry between them, which before now he hadn't noticed.

"Matthew keeps telling me to eat more – he thinks I'm losing too much weight." Mary explained with a playful roll of her eyes, as if complaining about the endearingly annoying habits of a new husband. She had shed several pounds over the last month or so, due to the stress and hectic lifestyle brought on by her work. Matthew had remarked earlier that morning that he could barely feel her when she was sat on his lap, and had repeatedly bounced her on his knee to prove his point.

"Yes, I'd noticed that too…" Robert said politely, casting an eye over Matthew curiously. He said no more, but didn't need to – his daughter and his protégé were quickly involved with their own conversation again, oblivious to those around them. He noticed the way Matthew seemed intent on making Mary laugh, and easily succeeded in doing so, and the way Mary cheekily picked at the food on his plate. He'd never seen her like this with anyone else, least of all his son-in-law. His attention was diverted, however, by the guest on his right, but he made a mental note to ask Gerald about the circumstances of Matthew's arrival last night.

…

"Do you know what room you're staying in yet?" Mary asked. The lunch had finished, and some guests were mingling in the foyer of the conference centre while others filtered out. Matthew had found a secluded area in the gardens for him and Mary to spend more time together, armed with the excuse of admiring the stunning pond display, should anyone happen upon them and question what they were doing.

"No. I'm not sure if your Dad has actually asked Gerald about it, but he said it should be fine." Matthew replied, swinging their joined hands between them as they strolled alongside the flower-beds. "Remind me to thank Robert again for lending me this tie." Matthew said. He'd turned up in Bath unprepared for a formal luncheon, dressed in a casual shirt and corduroys, so Robert had lent him one of his spare ties. The resulting outfit was odd and mismatched, and Mary had poked fun at him, but he didn't care. His main reason for being there was to be with Mary – nothing else mattered.

"Let me know once you know, and I'll come over at some point." Mary said casually.

Matthew paused and turned to face her, a smirk on his lips. "Excuse me? I thought the whole purpose of me staying another night was for me to get a good night's sleep so I can drive home safely. And now you want to come and keep me awake?" He teased.

"I never said anything about keeping you awake." Mary defended herself. "I just thought…" She trailed off, feeling self-conscious.

"What?" Matthew prompted.

Mary sighed, feeling silly. "I thought it might be nice to sleep together. I mean- actually _sleep_…and wake up together." She clarified, harking back to the events of earlier that morning. She blushed at the giddy, hopelessly-in-love look in Matthew's eyes as he opened his mouth to respond.

"Mary?" Robert's voice called from behind some trees, unknowingly interrupting them. Mary and Matthew swiftly pulled their intertwined fingers apart before Robert could see.

"I'm here, Dad." Mary replied.

Matthew smiled at Robert as he appeared, but did not receive a glance back.

"Our car's here, we should go now or we'll be late for dinner. We promised Gerald and Helen that we'd dine with them this evening." Robert addressed Mary.

"And we wouldn't want to miss a second of that." Mary replied drolly. "Let's go, then." She said to Matthew, beckoning him as she moved to leave.

"The car is just for us." Robert informed Mary, throwing Matthew a look.

"But Matthew's staying with us this evening." Mary reminded her father. "Is there a separate car coming for him?"

"Actually, Matthew is not staying with us this evening." Robert said curtly, but not rudely.

"What? Why?" Mary asked, failing to hide how much she cared about where Matthew was spending the night.

"I don't think it's right." was Robert's simple reply.

"It's fine." Matthew piped up, sensing that Mary was about to strike up an argument with her father. "I wouldn't want to inconvenience your relatives anymore. They've already let me stay for one night, which is kind enough." He desperately hoped that this is what Robert had meant when he said he didn't think it was right.

"But where will you go?" Mary asked.

"There are plenty of B&B's around here, I'll find somewhere." Matthew smiled reassuringly, although he felt as disappointed as she looked.

"Yes, exactly." Robert said. His demeanour was much colder than Matthew had ever seen. "It was nice to see you, have a safe trip home."

There was no hug, no handshake, only a cursory smile from the man Matthew had long thought of as his mentor. Mary looked incensed, but didn't say anything.

And with that, they left.

...

A/N: as ever, please continue to fill me in on your thoughts! Xxx


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: please accept my apologies for the long wait for this chapter! And thanks so much for your continued support. I'm so grateful that so many people are sticking with the story and are actually eager to read more!_

…

Mary felt she was simultaneously the luckiest woman in the world and the least fortunate.

How charmed her world was now that Matthew was in it. She considered what her life would be without him – what _had_ it been, those mere months ago which seemed like another universe? She had unknowingly been incomplete, pursuing her career and thinking herself successful, but all the time she had been half a person. Sometimes she wondered how many people roamed the Earth not realising what was missing from their lives; then she wondered if there was a special love for every person, or if it was a rarity which she had been lucky enough to be blessed with. Whatever the answer was, she knew that Matthew was a gift.

How ironic it was for her to have the most wonderful gift bestowed upon her, only for it to be wrong for her to accept it. The circumstances surrounding her and Matthew were far from ideal. Everything was acting against them, compelling them to keep apart. Their marital status, their different backgrounds…her father.

_Robert had hastily ushered Mary towards the car (or away from Matthew – she couldn't tell which) without saying a word. The journey to the house had been silent; Mary's silence had initially been brought on by being unable to decide the best way of confronting her father over his behaviour, and had then been sustained by the presence of two colleagues in the car on the way back to Gerald and Helen's residence. _

_Upon arriving at the house, Mary stormed straight up the staircase and shut the door. There was no way she was subjecting herself to dinner now – the idea of dining with those people had repulsed her even when she thought Matthew would be joining them. But now, with Matthew absent and her father in a huff, she thought she'd be much better off sitting in her room on her own._

"_Mary." Robert's voice sounded sharply through the bedroom door. It wasn't his usual questioning tone – it was the beginning of an order. "You're late for dinner, come downstairs."_

_Incensed at his attitude and his treatment of her and Matthew in the last hour, she stomped towards the door and opened it, gesturing him inside. It took a lot of restraint to stop herself from bellowing at him immediately, but she did not want to give her relatives the satisfaction of seeing her undone, nor did she want her colleagues to hear their two bosses fighting over family issues whilst on a business trip._

_Slamming the door shut, she spun to face Robert. "What were you thinking, refusing to allow Matthew to stay here and leaving him to fend for himself?" She demanded._

_Robert barked a short, sarcastic laugh. "Honestly, Mary, he's a grown man and we're in Bath – you're making it sound as if I've abandoned a child in the jungle."_

"_It was utterly rude." Mary said firmly. "And you're the one who invited him here in the first place!"_

"_I did invite him." Robert agreed, but his tone made it clear that it was to be his only concession in this conversation. "I did _not_, however, expect him to turn up. I _certainly _did not expect him to turn up in the middle of the night. And what _really _surprised me, Mary, is that you called him straight up to your bedroom and he did not emerge until he came down for breakfast!" Robert's voice was rising as he spoke, concluding in a fury._

"_We were just talking." Mary defended herself, trying to keep her voice as cool and innocent as possible when, in truth, she was taken aback to discover her father's knowledge of what had happened. "He helped with my speech."_

"_You're a married woman!" Robert bellowed, leaning towards her as if to make his point even clearer. "You do not invite men – who, I must add, are also married – to your bedroom in the middle of the night with no proper explanation to anybody as to his presence. You didn't even tell me he was coming – why was that?" Robert challenged. If anyone should know of Matthew's arrival, it should be him. After all, as far as he knew, it was he who had the closest relationship to Matthew. _

_Mary's usually sharp brain was devoid of alibis. "I-" She stammered, frustrated with herself for her hesitance._

"_And then," Robert ploughed ahead, impatient for her response now that he'd remembered other things he was angry about, "I see you sat by him at lunch, flirting and laughing with no regard for your company. As soon as lunch is over, the two of you disappear off to the gardens, doing God knows what!"_

"_We weren't doing anything!" Mary shouted back, outraged that her father would think her behaviour inappropriate, however correct he was. "Why don't you trust me?" She asked. She had never done anything before to cause him to question her, so it hurt somewhat that he seemed so firm in his belief that she had done something wrong._

"_Don't treat me like a fool, Mary." Robert warned. _

"_Don't treat me like a child." Mary countered. "I'm a grown woman, I can make up my own mind about how to behave." _

_Expecting the argument to continue for a while longer, Mary was surprised to see her father grow quiet. The tension left his body as he looked at her, his expression still hard but with a new softness. Pity at her naivety, perhaps. He sighed resignedly. "I can't tell you what to do." He admitted. "But just think, Mary. Think of your husband." He paused to let the words sink in. "Don't throw your marriage away for nothing."_

_Mary winced at hearing Matthew referred to as 'nothing', but felt unable to defend him without opening up an even larger can of worms._

"_Think of the business." Robert continued. "It will be yours one day; probably one day quite soon. I can't carry on with it all much longer." Robert said regretfully. He never wanted to fully retire, but the strain of all the responsibility was starting to take its toll. Plus, he wanted to be around for at least a few years after passing leadership of Crawleys to Mary, to help her in the new role. "I want you to be more focussed on the job from now on, to dedicate more of yourself to it. That's what you've always wanted, isn't it?" He reminded her of her lifelong ambition to fill his shoes. "I know you're stressed and will inevitably feel like you need a break but you can't let yourself get distracted by anything. Even by handsome young men who show an interest in you." He finished pointedly. _

_Mary stood, silent and motionless. There probably would never be a good moment to tell her parents that she wanted to divorce Ash to be with Matthew, whom she had fallen in love with, but this seemed like a particularly bad moment. Eventually, Robert moved towards the door, stepping around her. _

"_Just think." He repeated, before leaving._

…

Matthew checked his phone again. Seeing that there were no new messages or calls on his phone – not that he'd have missed them, given that he'd been sat alone with it for the last ninety minutes – he set it back down on the small coffee table. His leg bounced up and down with restlessness and anxiety, his eyes constantly darting from the television to his phone and back again.

A text message had been sent to him from Mary a couple of hours after she and Robert had left him in the gardens of the conference centre. She'd apologised for deserting him so abruptly and for her father's rudeness, and asked if he had managed to find somewhere to stay. He'd replied almost instantly and reassured her that he was fine in the bed and breakfast that he'd found, and asked how things were with her.

The tiredness which had accumulated since his arrival in Bath was threatening to overwhelm him, but he fought it in the hope that he'd hear something from Mary soon. He was concerned, naturally. He'd been concerned by Robert's curtness earlier on, and he was additionally concerned by Mary's silence now. What had Robert said to her – had something he said changed her mind?

These worrying, circling thoughts were mercifully interrupted by his phone ringing. He practically sprang out of his seat from relief after all the anticipation.

"Mary!" He exclaimed loudly.

Mary's giggle was hushed. "Hello. How are you?" She said quietly.

"Alright, how are you? Why are you whispering?" Matthew asked, also lowering the volume of his voice.

"I don't want to alert anyone who may be lurking outside to the fact that I'm on the phone." Mary replied bitterly.

"What happened?" Matthew asked nervously, unsure he wanted to hear the answer.

"Dad essentially accused us of having an affair." Mary said.

"God." Matthew breathed, rubbing his forehead. "So did you tell him?"

"No…although I didn't exactly deny it, either. His head is full of ideas. Speaking of which…" Mary trailed off, distracted.

"What?" Matthew asked anxiously.

"He's just sent me an email titled 'Stress Management'." Mary scoffed. Matthew presumed she was on her laptop as she was speaking to him. "He thinks I'm turning to you as a break from my stressful job, so I suppose he wants me to consider alternative ways of winding down that don't involve extra-marital sex."

Matthew couldn't help but laugh. He could hear a quiet thumping sound on the other end of the phone. "Everything alright?"

"The email won't open." Mary explained. "Argh, I hate it when this happens! You'd think these billion-dollar computer companies could manage to make a bloody mouse-pad connect to what happens on the screen." She huffed. The sounds of her manically clicking grew louder and louder. "Oh, great, now the _fucking_ screen's frozen completely." She sighed exasperatedly.

Matthew stifled his laughter. "Mary, maybe you _are_ stressed." He teased.

"Shut up." Mary bit back, although she was smiling too.

"So…I guess he still suspects that we're together?" Matthew returned to the subject of their troubles.

"Maybe. I don't know. To be honest, us having an affair probably isn't the thing which would be seen as the most damaging." Mary said defeatedly.

"What would be, then?" Matthew asked with confusion.

"The divorce."

Despite his knowledge of Mary's background, this still came as a surprise to Matthew. "Your family would rather you remained married and conducted an affair than ended an unhappy marriage?" He asked disbelievingly.

"Yes." Mary confirmed with a sigh. "They can forgive affairs as temporary indiscretions. I wouldn't be the first in my family's four-hundred year history to have an affair, believe me. But divorce is unprecedented, and the longer it stays unprecedented, the bigger a deal it is."

"Nobody cares whether you get divorced or not." Matthew said bluntly. "I mean – of course your family would be sad to see your marriage end, but the outside world wouldn't view your family as anything less than it has always been. This is the twenty-first century!" He cried out at the absurdity of what he was hearing. He'd known that the topic was rather taboo among Mary's family, but he hadn't quite realised the extent of their seemingly warped viewpoints.

"I know, Matthew." Mary said impatiently, forgetting to keep her voice quiet. She didn't need him to tell her this – she'd been tormented by these facts for so long, had countless imaginary arguments with her parents about it, had even cried about it. She fell silent.

"Mary?" Matthew asked tentatively. "Are you having second thoughts?" He asked. Before Mary could respond, he added, "Just be honest with me, please."

"No." Mary said with such certainty that Matthew's fears of her change of heart were instantly exhausted. "It just makes me worry about what the fall-out will be like. I don't want to divide the family, or somehow put the business in jeopardy. Like you said, nobody else will really care – my parents' friends may gossip and comment for a while, but they'll soon find something else to latch onto – but what I worry about is how it will affect my family." She confessed. Knowing that duty was at the core of the Crawley family's values, Matthew could understand.

"Mary, I want you to know that I'm not going to push you to tell them at any particular time. Don't feel pressured to bring it up. Just do it whenever you feel ready." He tried to comfort her, wishing that he could be with her in order to comfort her more fully.

Mary smiled into her phone, pressing her ear against it more completely in an unconscious effort to be closer to him. "Thank you."

"What time are you heading back to London tomorrow?" Matthew asked softly, ever unable to think of anything but the next time he could see her.

"Shortly after breakfast, I think." Mary replied, picking at the fabric of the quilt. "What about you? Are you alright in the bed and breakfast?" She asked, realising that she hadn't yet enquired after his current accommodation.

"Yes, it's quite lovely here, actually. Obviously not as lovely as your company, though." Matthew said soppily, and Mary laughed. "I'll drive back at about the same time. Will you be free in the afternoon?"

"I don't think so." Mary said regretfully. "I have a couple of meetings and my mother wants us to have a family dinner in the evening, for Edith's birthday."

"Alright…" Matthew said very quietly, and Mary could hear the slight croakiness in his voice.

"You're tired." She told him. "God, you must be _exhausted_!" She emphasised, remembering his sleepless night.

"You've had as little sleep as I have." Matthew pointed out. "But you're not that tired."

"No, but you are a far more delicate creature than I am." Mary joked, enjoying Matthew's sleepy chuckle. "I'll try to call you tomorrow at some point." Mary promised.

"Ok. Good night." Matthew said, rising out of his seat and walking over to the down-turned bed. "I love you."

"Good night." Mary said with the grin that always spread on her face whenever she heard those words from him. "I love you too."

…

_A/N: I envisage only a couple more chapters for this story, so we are nearing the end! I have another idea in the pipeline which will probably be quite a long story too, but I'm sort of waiting to finish this one first. Anyway, do let me know your thoughts! xxx_


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: hello everyone! I'm starting to feel like a bit of a parrot in my author's notes, but hanks a million for your continued support and reviews. And apologies (again) for the increasing delays between updates. I suppose it's getting a bit tougher to write, as things are getting more serious for M/M, so I want to deal with it more carefully. With that said, I obviously can't afford to be too cautious because then nothing will happen! So here is a slightly longer chapter than usual. Hope you enjoy xxx_

…

The rain pelted down on the window as Mary sat in bed, curled under a woolly blanket, reading. The vibrations of her phone provided a welcome interruption from her struggle to understand 'The Concept of Law', in the form of a phone call from the very person who had recommended that book to her.

"Hello, stranger." Mary smiled as she greeted him.

It had been almost two weeks since she'd left Bath, and that fortnight had been the busiest of her life. The majority of it had been dedicated to the centenary celebrations and launch of Crawley's new image, necessitating Mary's presence in what felt like every city in the country. All the shuttling around had left her with no time to even ponder what to do about her father, her husband, or Matthew. The men in her life were troublesome, indeed (although, naturally, the latter in that list provided her with the most delightful kind of trouble).

She had gotten used to willing the days to pass by quickly, but now that the centenary events were over and done with, Mary wasn't so sure that she liked life on the other side. She was tired, but had an even more taxing task ahead of her.

After having made his attitude towards the notion of divorce very clear to her, Mary decided it would be best to let the topic lie low with her father, at least until the stress of work ebbed away. She suspected that her mother, as an individual, would not put up much of a fight to the idea; she was more liberal and, despite her occasional irrational tendencies, more likely to identify the truly important issue involved – namely, Mary's happiness. However, in her capacity as the wife of Robert Crawley, Mary doubted whether Cora would be so willing to voice her broad-mindedness. Robert and his side of the family had a lot of pride (something which Mary knew she had inherited in heaps) and Cora was reluctant to damage it, for the sake of keeping the peace. This was as far as Mary had been able to get in her attempts to think through the situation. She was still none-the-wiser as to how and when to actually bring up the subject.

It had been her sensible Matthew's idea to limit their interactions even further over the last fortnight, merely sending her the odd supportive text message or funny email to lift her spirits. As much joy as they found in each other's company, it was always punctured by the sadness and apparent helpnessness of their situation, and Matthew didn't want Mary to be distracted by any of these emotions while she had such an important juncture in her career to get through. But now that the dust had settled on the launch, he couldn't wait to see her again. He'd missed her indescribably.

"How are you?" Matthew's smile seeped into his voice as he spoke.

"Well, I'm trying to wrap my head around jurisprudence and it's a miserable day outside, so things could be better."

"Hopefully I'll be able to improve things." Matthew remarked wryly, touched by the knowledge that Mary was making such efforts to be close to him. "What are you doing tomorrow night?"

"Erm, nothing, I think. Why?" Anticipation built within Mary as she contemplated what he might have in store for them both. That blissful night in Bath felt like an age ago. It had been so simple – just the two of them in a room, but it had been the happiest and most peaceful full night of her life.

"Since it's my birthday tomorrow, we're having a gathering of sorts in the evening. We've booked an area in this pub near Islington. I want you to come." Matthew said, his excitement to invite Mary along making him forget to take care in choosing his words.

"Who's 'we'?" Mary asked cautiously, nervous about the answer.

Matthew winced as he realised his mistake. He'd wanted to break it to her cautiously. "Me and…er, Sophie. It was sort of her idea and she organised it without me really wanting it to happen." He explained regretfully. "I know you think it'll seem weird-" He tried to pre-empt her, knowing exactly what her response would be.

"Of _course_ it's weird, Matthew!" Mary exclaimed. "I can't turn up as a guest to her event, not after what we've done, what we've been doing-"

"Mary." Matthew interrupted with his characteristic gentle firmness, trying to calm her down. "I've been going over it in my mind for the last few days, debating whether to invite you or not. But I've decided that I want you there. Please don't worry about it. There'll be plenty of other people around; you won't even have to speak to her." He tried to assure her. When the thought of Mary being there had initially popped into his head, it seemed ludicrous and highly inappropriate. But the longer he contemplated it, the more the potential benefits began to outweigh the potential problems.

"Why do you want me there, Matthew?" The idea of her going still made Mary very uncomfortable and she was surprised that Matthew thought this was a good idea, especially when he'd recently expressed such reserve in relation to her family. "You know nothing _at all _could happen between us. I wouldn't even trust myself to speak to you."

"That's not why I want you there." Matthew explained to her. "As much as I like to see you…I want you to meet everyone else. Or rather, I want everyone else to meet _you_. My mother will be there, my close friends. I'd really like it if they got to know you a bit."

"But why?" Mary asked, still perplexed as to why Matthew considered this a worthwhile proposition, when all she could see was a great big risk.

"Because you're special to me." Matthew said simply, chuckling lightly. "I want them to know you and see all the things in you that I see."

Mary softened at this. She could understand what he meant; she'd been wondering how her sisters, grandmother and friends would take to Matthew. She hoped that they'd like him very much. However, the fact that her father knew Matthew already, and was so fond of him (or had been), made her less curious than she otherwise would have been. In any case, Matthew was much closer to his family and friends than she was, so she knew he'd be even more anxious for her to meet and get along with everyone.

"Plus," Matthew continued, "I think it might help soften the blow when…" he sighed, "When we tell them. About us." He knew the time was approaching, and his mind had been filled with thoughts of how best to handle the situation. It was all incredibly sensitive – he'd always been a sensitive person, able to handle things with tact and delicacy, but this situation still worried him. He still harboured doubts as to whether this was a smart way to proceed, but he was tired of prolonging their secret and was eager to get the ball rolling in some fashion. Mary's family would require time and patience, but he felt his own family and friends could be brought around to the change in circumstances sooner. This was probably the only opportunity he'd have to introduce Mary to them before they dropped the bomb.

Matthew's remark made sense to Mary. The shock would be lessened if his loved ones were already aware of Mary, and may possibly understand the attraction. It would be far more difficult to break the news to them if all they knew was that Matthew had been seeing an anonymous woman, giving them scope to conjure up unfavourable images of her and dislike her before even meeting her.

Mary nodded slowly before realising Matthew couldn't see her. "OK." She agreed softly. "What time?"

…

Mary found herself constantly glancing over at Matthew and Sophie, analysing their behaviour. She'd been at the party for an hour so far; she'd briefly greeted Matthew with a polite smile and a "Happy birthday", as a mere formality, refraining from touching him. He'd quickly pawned her off onto his mother, Isobel, who had also arrived alone. They'd chatted for a while, and Mary realised where Matthew got his conversational skills and wide-ranging knowledge from. She was now speaking with a couple of his closest friends from school; they were lovely, but her mind was pre-occupied with the host and hostess.

As she watched Sophie slip her arm around Matthew's waist and kiss him lovingly on the cheek, Mary wondered what they'd shared together. They'd been married for almost two years now. They must have spoken about their future together countless times, as all couples in love do. They must have truly meant their vows as they spoke them; she and Ashley hadn't taken their vows lightly, but the words had been more of an aspiration to them both than a promise. Mary could clearly see Sophie's face light up each time she looked at Matthew – it was unmistakeable to Mary, since she could feel it happen to herself whenever she was with him. It suddenly dawned on her that Sophie believed that she was going to be with Matthew until their dying days – raising children together, retiring together, keeping each other company through thick and thin, sickness and health…

Later, Mary looked on as Sophie helped her husband cut his cake and laughingly dabbed icing on his face. She listened as one guest remarked to another what a sweet couple they were. Every sight, every sound she overheard became a pang in her stomach, a stab in her chest. She'd been very foolish.

Suddenly feeling very claustrophobic in the crowded restaurant filled with reminders of her indiscretions, she turned to leave.

"Sorry– Mary, is it?" A man stepped out in front of her, smiling welcomingly.

"Yes." She managed to reply, her mind still racing.

"I'm James, a friend of Matthew's from university." He held a hand out, which Mary shook lightly, forcing a polite smile onto her face. "Matthew said you don't know anybody here so he asked me to look out for you." He laughed lightly.

"That's awfully nice of you, but I don't want you to abandon your friends just to speak to me. I'll be fine." Mary smiled again, desperately hoping that he'd leave her alone so she could escape. It only made her more uneasy that Matthew had been keeping his eye on her, while his wife was completely unaware.

"Not at all, Matthew speaks very highly of you so I've been looking forward to meeting you." He smiled. James embarked on a conversation, and Mary obligingly replied to all of his questions and comments, arching her eyebrows in acknowledgement and smiling whenever it felt appropriate – she'd developed a sixth sense for these things over the years. Her true attention, however, was on the conversation taking place beside her, between Sophie and the woman she recognised as Jade – the friend whom Mary had met at the poetry evening a few months earlier.

"Your mother was saying earlier that she wants grandchildren." Jade said teasingly.

Sophie rolled her eyes. "Oh God, I know. She's always on my back. I don't know why she's pestering _me_, though– it's Matthew who's dragging his feet about it!"

"He doesn't want kids?" Jade enquired with surprise. "He seems like the perfect father-type."

"He does want kids." Sophie nodded with a certainty that made Mary feel sick with guilt. "Well, always said he did. But over the last few months he keeps saying it's not the right time…and he's so busy in the office, we hardly have any time together."

"Does he still want to do that theatre thing?"

Sophie scoffed. "No, I won't let him. I told him that he missed his chance a while ago so there's no point pining after that life with silly business ideas. He hasn't mentioned it in ages so I think he got the message." Mary felt her guilt subside slightly as she filled with indignation on Matthew's behalf.

"So remind him that you want babies!" Jade encouraged. "You're not getting any younger, you know." She laughed.

"I know…I don't know why he's so hesitant, he'll be the most wonderful father." Sophie shook her head in wonder, her blonde pony-tail swaying lightly as she did so. "Maybe I'll bring it up today, while he's in a good mood." Sophie grinned. "And perhaps we can get started on it tonight." She winked at Jade mischievously.

The two friends laughed girlishly, while Mary felt sick to her stomach. Excusing herself as politely as she could just as James finished his sentence, she strode out of the room and out of the front door. Practically hurtling herself down the road, trying to get as far away from that restaurant as possible, she found her car-keys in her bag. Sliding into the front seat of the car, she held the keys up to put them into the ignition. She paused as she looked at her hand– it was trembling. Not knowing what to do, not knowing how she could possibly drive herself home when she was in this state of mind, she dropped her keys, put her head in her hands, and cried.

…

Matthew skipped up the front steps leading up to Mary's house. They'd scheduled a 'meeting' for today, the pretence being that Matthew could catch Mary up to speed on his progress with the theatre over the last couple of weeks – Matthew was sure, however, that other things would come of this meeting, too. Nothing too intimate, of course, and the fact that they would be in Mary and Ash's house was enough to put him off being too disrespectful, but he'd missed her so dearly. A kiss or two would be reasonable, surely. He smiled at the thought as he rang the doorbell.

His smile grew when he heard footsteps approach the door. Ash was at his parents' place, taking care of estate matters, so he knew it was only Mary at home. A few seconds later she stood in the doorway in front of him, her hair not yet blow-dried and slightly tangled, wearing a woolly cardigan with leggings, and he ached for her.

"What are you doing here?" She asked him, aghast. Aside from forgetting about his planned visit after last night, she had certainly not _wanted_ to see him so soon.

"We had a meeting down for today, remember?" He reminded her, puzzled by her expression. He chuckled at her when recognition dawned on her face and gently pushed his way into the house; he wanted to kiss her, and knew he couldn't do so outside. It had been torture for him last night, seeing her there right in front of him, looking the way she looked and– by all reports– charming his guests, without being able to touch her or even speak to her. It was his event and he'd been free to speak to whomever he chose, except for the one person he loved the most.

He shut the door behind him, a wide smile spreading across his face as he clasped her waist. A hand pushed at his shoulder, however, as he leaned down to kiss her. "What is it?" He asked, searching her face for an explanation behind her strange behaviour. Mary averted her gaze to the floor, stepping further away from him. "Why did you leave so abruptly last night?" He asked, suspecting that something had happened and was now troubling her. "Everyone said that you left without an explanation."

"Did you ask _Sophie_ if I'd said goodbye to her?" Mary's tone was unmistakeably accusatory, but Matthew didn't understand why. "Did you walk over to your _wife_ and ask her if your _mistress_ had said goodbye to her?" Mary's voice had already become shaky from the emotion behind her words.

"Don't call yourself that." Matthew said firmly, even more confused by Mary's behaviour. "That's not what you are - you know that."

"I'm afraid I don't, actually." Mary scoffed, looking away from him. Last night she'd felt like nothing but a mistress, like she'd been invited to view the home that she was wrecking.

"Mary, what is the matter?" Matthew demanded. He was perplexed by her sudden anger and worried by her statements.

Mary hesitated as she sought to find a way to express what she was feeling. "What are we doing, Matthew?" She threw her arms up in despair. "We're deluding ourselves."

"What?" Matthew asked, panic washing over him in large waves. Was she backing away? From them?

"We shouldn't be together." Mary said, her voice cracking as she spoke, as she lost the fight against the tears that had been threatening to fall. "After what I saw last night, I've realised that we've been incredibly foolish."

"Why are you saying this?" Matthew's brow was creased in concern, he instinctively reached out for her as he saw her tears, but she jerked away from him. "We love each other and want to be together, there's nothing foolish about that."

"But you and Sophie loved each other!" Mary argued, her voice rising in frustration at Matthew's failure to understand her. "And you said that was a foolish kind of love. Why are we any different? We've only known each other a few months."

"I don't need to know you any longer to be sure of how I feel about you." Matthew said passionately. "You _know_ how we feel about each other– we're not just having a casual fling, or looking for some fun to distract ourselves from our marriages."

"If I wasn't behind you with this whole theatre-director thing then you wouldn't think so." Mary challenged.

"What?" Mary was baffling him with every sentence she uttered.

Mary sighed in exasperation. "If I'd been opposed to the idea of you leaving your job and pursuing another career, you wouldn't think you loved me."

"Mary, that's ridiculous." Matthew said seriously. "There are so many other reasons that I love you-"

"But you said that support is one of the things a couple needs– you've found someone who supports you and now you think you should leave your wife to be with me!" Mary shouted.

"That's not the only reason!" Matthew shouted back, hurt and infuriated that she would question his love for her. "What about the other things I said? About having a deep love, and being best friends, and sharing the same mind and soul? Are you just ignoring all of that?"

Mary looked around helplessly. She wasn't entirely sure what her precise argument was– she just knew that she needed to end things. She wasn't a religious person, but the notion of sin, and living in it, had been at the forefront of her mind since last night.

"You say that I wouldn't feel the same way about you if you didn't support my career choices." Matthew used her silence as an opportunity to further his arguments. "That's like saying 'if I wasn't a good listener, then you wouldn't want me'. Or 'if I wasn't intelligent', or 'if I didn't make you laugh'. That's probably true– if any one of those factors was lacking, then I probably wouldn't love you _as much_ as I do. But I would still want to be with you more than anything." He explained. "But the point is that you _are_ all those things, and that's why I _do_ love you so much. I don't know why we're arguing about hypotheticals, or alternate versions of ourselves." He paused as Mary continued to stare off to the side. She'd stopped crying, which was a good sign. A thought suddenly struck him; it explained her behaviour today, and why she left last night without a word. She was comparing their relationship to his relationship with Sophie. "Mary." He began softly, coaxing her to finally look at him. "The difference between me and Sophie, and me and you, lies in more than just the fact that you support me. I don't need to tell you– we've had this conversation, about what makes an ideal spouse. It was _you_ who made me realise all of that in the first place."

Mary finally found her voice again. "Yes, but aside from the whole 'support' issue, there's nothing wrong with her!"

Matthew drew away from her slightly. He'd told her about his marriage, about its problems. He'd told her about his feelings towards her, about the future he wanted with her. But apparently she hadn't taken his word for it. "Don't pretend you know more about my marriage than I do." He warned.

Mary immediately felt regretful. In her haste to free herself from guilt, she'd been inarticulate and had unwillingly insulted Matthew. She loved him, more than anything– she'd never doubted it. She just doubted whether two divorces and a new relationship was the wisest course of action, when she now realised how much stood to be damaged. "I'm sorry." She repeated the word that Matthew had first taught her to say sincerely. "It's just…last night, I saw how you were together. How she was with you. And I felt… so _sad _that I'd be the one who broke it up." Mary's eyes brimmed with tears.

"Mary," Matthew spoke her name lovingly, finally understanding the real reason behind her apparent change of heart. "Don't think of it that way. You're not doing any breaking up; it wasn't a solid marriage to begin with. If I was truly happy and in love, I wouldn't have fallen for you as strongly as I have. Don't feel bad." He reached out to brush away a tear from her cheek as she cried again. "You're speaking as if you deliberately manipulated me, lured me away and seduced me. That's not what happened– we just met and happened to form a connection, unlike one I've ever felt before. It's not a bad thing that we fell in love, it's nobody's 'fault'."

"But," Mary choked out, having controlled herself enough to speak. "I overheard her last night…she still wants to be with you."

"That's not the point-" Matthew began.

"How can you be so heartless?" Mary exclaimed, and Matthew's eyes widened at her outburst. "We're both _married_. Two people _chose_ to be with us forever. How can we throw it away?"

"We're not happy, though!" Matthew fought back. "We either stay 'faithful' to our spouses and remain married, even though we'll always be in love with someone else, or we give them and ourselves a chance for proper happiness by ending it." He was determined to make her see that it was the best possible option. "We're being false by staying with them."

"It's just wrong, Matthew!" Mary cried. "Your wife adores you, she wants to have children with you. You're probably the most important person in the world to her-"

"But you feel the same way about me!" Matthew interrupted, his voice raised.

"Yes, but I'm not married to you!"

Matthew looked away from her agitatedly, desperately searching for a way to make her understand him. "If Ashley said he wanted children with you now, would that change the way you feel about him? Would it change how you feel about me?"

Mary frowned, not understanding what point Matthew was making. "No, but that doesn't matter because Ashley doesn't love me the way Sophie loves you."

"It _does_ matter!" Matthew said exasperatedly. "Because the point isn't how Ashley feels or how Sophie feels– it's how _we_ feel." Matthew paused to lend weight to his words. Relieved that his meaning seemed to be sinking in, he continued. "And I don't love Sophie, I love you. And you don't love Ashley, you love me." His voice softened, he walked towards her.

"But it's unfair…" Mary protested weakly. She understood what Matthew was saying, and it made sense, but something still didn't sit right with her. "I know what it's like to be in love with you, and to want a future with you, and I'd _hate_ it if you left me for somebody else." She winced at the mere thought of being in that situation, of never being able to see or touch her darling Matthew again. "I don't want to put anyone through that."

"So you'd rather put yourself through it?" Matthew retorted. It only made him love her more that she was being so compassionate towards the woman who was an obstacle to their relationship, but she needed to see sense.

"I know it sounds silly, but-" Mary began defensively.

"I know, Mary." Matthew assured her. "I know that I married her and I know how she feels about me better than anyone. I don't even want to think about having to disappoint her or upset her in this way – trust me, I battled through these thoughts myself – but there's no easy solution to this. We just need to weigh our options…and being with you is my preferred option." He kissed her cheek softly. "Surely it would be more immoral for me to stay with her while I was madly in love with another woman. I couldn't do that to her. And how could I possibly give her anything she wants, or bring children into the picture, when all my thoughts are of you?"

Mary tore her gaze away from his; it was impossible to think straight when those blue eyes were looking at her so adoringly. She couldn't muster enough resistance, however, to stop him settling his hands around her waist and kissing her cheek again.

"What was it that worried you?" He asked quietly. He wanted to make sure that all of her fears were allayed once and for all.

Mary sighed, her hands lazily stroking his shoulders. "I overheard Sophie tell someone that she wanted children with you as soon as possible." A sick thought entered her mind as she remembered Sophie's exact words– she stilled, gently pushed Matthew away and looked at him. "Have you slept with Sophie? Since we've been together?" She asked seriously.

She didn't need a response– the look in Matthew's eyes in the millisecond after she posed the question gave her the answer. "No." He answered, and she didn't doubt for a moment that he was telling the truth. "We have…kissed, but I never initiated it-"

"It's OK." Mary reassured, stroking his arm. "I know it's hard to avoid all contact completely. I haven't been with Ash in that way either." She said quickly, noticing Matthew look worried. "I've gotten quite good at making excuses when it comes to bedtime." She smiled slightly, in spite of the lack of humour in the topic of conversation.

"Me too. She was pretty angry last night." Matthew recalled. "I find it difficult to even hug her, you know." He told Mary. "Now that I know what it is to be with you, being with anyone else feels inadequate…almost wrong."

"I know." Mary hugged his waist, resting her head against his chest. They stayed like this for a while, silently. "Thank you." She whispered eventually.

"For what?" Matthew whispered back.

"For not letting me lose you."

…

_A/N: not much to say here other than – let me know what you think! Thanks again, lots of love xxx_


	13. Chapter 13

The low drone of London's traffic faded into insignificance as Matthew fought to get through the rushing, suited crowds of the City's professionals on their lunch-break. Finally spotting a cash machine with a queue that didn't look like it would take several hours to get through, he took a place in line.

"Matthew?"

A voice sounded above the background noise. He turned to his right to find its source standing next to him with a smile. A disturbingly, guilt-inducingly innocent smile.

"Ash, how are you?" Matthew said, instantly hating himself for not confessing everything and for deceiving his peer by being courteous.

"Great, thanks. It's been a while. Dropped out of rugby, didn't you?" Ash paused and pointed ahead of Matthew. Looking up, Matthew realised that the queue had moved ahead a few paces. He shuffled along, with Ash mimicking him from his place beside the queue. "What happened there?" He asked.

"Er, well…" Matthew spluttered. What the hell was he supposed to say? He could hardly come clean now, in the middle of a crowded street. Besides, it wasn't his place to tell Ash – it was Mary's. "I just didn't have time for it anymore." He said evasively.

"Well you left us with a man down." Ash chuckled. "You could've at least given us some notice before taking off like that!"

"Sorry." Matthew apologised with a small, uncomfortable smile.

"Doesn't matter now." Ash waved his hand dismissively. "We got another guy in to replace you, he used to play for Kent so he's pretty good. Your leaving was actually a blessing in disguise!"

"Great." Matthew feigned enthusiasm and brushed over the under-hand jibe. "So, are you on your lunch-break too?" He asked politely.

"No, no. I don't work around here. I've got the day off, actually. Just about to hop on a train at Liverpool Street station to go to Cambridge. A few friends are having a reunion over there tonight so I'm staying over." He gestured to the small weekend bag that he was carrying.

"Oh, sounds fun." Matthew smiled."Is M-, your wife going too?" He quickly corrected himself, hoping Ash hadn't noticed that he was about to say 'Mary'. It would undoubtedly be unusual for him to remember the name of a woman he'd met once, months ago. He couldn't help but enquire, though - he was in contact with her as much as possible, but for the last few days they had only been able to text. He had either been busy at work or at home with Sophie in close proximity. He consequently had little insight into her schedule and wondered if she might have forgotten to mention it to him.

"No, she's not." Ash said matter-of-factly. "I didn't invite her. To be honest, it's a bit of a lads' get-together so I don't want her there hearing the things that we talk about and getting in the way, you know what I mean!" Ash laughed and hit Matthew's shoulder genially, as if Matthew also engaged in chauvinistic banter and behaved in ways with his friends that he wouldn't want his wife to see. "Anyway, you're at the front of the queue now," Ash nodded to the cash machine which was now directly in front of Matthew, "and I'm going to be late for my train, so I'll take my leave. It was nice to see you, Matthew." Ash smiled genuinely, patting Matthew's arm.

"You too." Matthew returned the smile with as much sincerity as he could summon. "Take care." He told him, feeling sick that he knew what fate was going to befall him.

Flustered and clumsy, he inserted his card in the machine and took the few moments before his money appeared as an opportunity to recollect himself and swallow the bile that was building up in his throat.

He was struck with guilt at the small glimpse into Mary's life. Ash was a nice enough man, relatively easy to chat to and he had shown Matthew some kindness. He was fun to be around if you're a man of a similar age and background (and he had taken to Matthew only upon learning of his attendance of Trinity College, Cambridge). But he knew Mary, and Ash was not right for her. He knew how Mary felt about her marriage, of course, but she hadn't mentioned it to him since they got together. Her references to Ash and her home life had, since then, always been brief and matter-of-fact, not emotional. He had been terribly concerned about her family and her father in particular, but had overlooked how miserable she must be on a day-to-day basis in her own house.

These thoughts preoccupied him so much that he was startled to find himself back at his desk, with no conscious memory of having returned there. Pulling his phone out, he set about texting Mary to ask if she would be able to speak that evening. Ash would be away, so he presumed that she would be. In any case, her house was large enough for her to conduct clandestine phone-calls with little or no risk of eavesdropping.

_Are you free to speak tonight, even briefly? Hope your day is going well. x_

The speediness of Mary's response made him chuckle in spite of his distressed state.

_I thought you'd never ask. I'm beginning to forget what your voice sounds like. What time? xx_

_I'll call when I can. Speak to you later x_

...

Sitting alone at the island in the middle of the spacious kitchen, Mary twirled her noodles around her fork, glancing at her phone every few seconds and willing it to ring. She wished she'd clarified between which hours she could expect Matthew's call. She'd miraculously been able to leave the office early and had consequently been sat at home for almost four hours awaiting the sweet sound of Matthew's phone-call. It had been days since their last proper conversation, which had taken place the day after his birthday gathering, she recalled. Not that she wanted to dwell on that conversation. It had been an important one for them to have, but it had also been incredibly draining and foreign for her to experience such outpouring of emotion. What she wanted, or needed, now was a simple, uncomplicated talk with her love about how their days had been, to share anecdotes, to hear him tell her that he loved her. Plus, she needed someone to complain to about Edith's new boyfriend, who was almost as unbearably square as she was.

Her fork clattered sharply against the porcelain bowl as Mary picked up her ringing phone with a smile, eager to proceed with the catch-up, but mostly just to hear his voice.

"Hello, stranger." She greeted him warmly, readjusting herself on the small stool to settle down for what she hoped would be a lengthy call.

"I'm going to tell Sophie."

Mary stilled instantly. The bluntness, the unexpectedness of it knocked the wind out of her. He hadn't waited to exchange pleasantries or verbal affections, as he typically would. Chills spread up her spine as the implications of his intent sank in further.

"Sorry to just come out with it." Matthew apologised softly, deciphering the effect his statement had had on her. "Sophie is in the shower but I don't know how soon she'll come out."

"What?" Mary's delayed and breathless response finally arrived. "When?"

"I don't know exactly. Tonight, if the chance arises. Tomorrow at the latest." Matthew replied.

"Why the sudden hurry?" Mary asked.

Matthew paused for a brief moment. "I bumped into Ash today. During my lunch-break."

"Oh God. Did you speak?" Mary asked, knowing from her own experience how awkward and uncomfortable it must have been for Matthew to be in close proximity to an unwanted spouse.

"Yes, he came up to me and caught me by surprise."

"What did you talk about?" Mary pressed.

"This and that. It doesn't really matter – just seeing him was enough to make me realise how quickly we need to move things along. He's a good guy, even if he is an absent husband a lot of the time-"

"We can't blame him for that." Mary interrupted.

"I know." Matthew agreed, not wanting to point out that Ash's frequent absences preceded his and Mary's relationship. "Seeing Ash reminded me that there are two other people at stake here. I mean, of course we've been aware of that all this time, but I just can't bear to drag them along anymore, Mary." He said resolutely.

Mary merely hummed in response. He was right – and Matthew knew that she agreed with him. Understandably, though, Mary was somewhat reluctant to accept that it was time to take action, because the action required was so horribly difficult.

"I know." Mary eventually replied. "Me too."

"And I also need to apologise to you." Matthew added.

"For what?" Mary asked incredulously.

"I should have thought about your situation more, while all of this was going on. I've spent hours upon hours thinking of how one day I'll be with you properly and how wonderful that will be, but I've prioritised trying to speak to you or see you as soon as I can – getting short-term doses of you – rather than actually _doing_ something about the obstacles in our way. Like inviting you to my birthday party…" He trailed off, shameful.

"Matthew, darling, you've apologised for that already. Stop beating yourself up about it. I'm not holding it against you at all." Mary said reassuringly.

"I've been very foolish, though, in prolonging your unhappiness in a loveless marriage. Leaving you alone in an empty house."

"Matthew, it's not _you_ leaving me alone all the time!" Mary said firmly.

"Even so, I've not done anything to help you." Matthew said, the bitterness in his tone directed at himself. "I want to end your unhappiness as soon as possible."

"Will you stop telling me that I'm so unhappy?" Mary scolded playfully. "I _was_ unhappy but I didn't even realise that until I met you. You've enhanced my happiness immeasurably." She said sincerely.

"Well I want to try to enhance it further, if you don't mind." Matthew teased back. "Plus," he continued, "I think it might be best for me to do it first. I know it's doubly hard for you because of your parents, so it might help to see how Sophie reacts. And it'll mean that I can be around more to help you."

Despite the heavy subject-matter of their conversation, Mary smiled fondly into the phone. He chastised himself for not caring about her feelings enough and yet here he was putting her needs above his. "What are you going to tell her?"

"It's more a case of _how_ I tell her, not what I tell her." Matthew corrected. "I have to tell her the truth, Mary. There's no question about that. I can't do something wrong and lie to her for weeks and still enjoy the privilege of having her think I'm a good guy who has behaved impeccably."

Mary bit her tongue to stop herself correcting him and telling him that he was a good person. In her eyes he was, and always would be, a good man. The best man. But her opinions were irrelevant in this instance. "Do you want to plan how you'll say it, then?" She asked. Her voice was slightly shaky, she noticed. She supposed that she couldn't believe this was actually going to happen, within the next twenty-four hours.

"Not really, no." Matthew said truthfully. "I don't want to sound rehearsed or false. I owe her my sincerity, even if I've been insincere for the last few weeks. This might be the last conversation I ever have with her." He said, thinking out loud. The thought made his voice crack slightly. With nerves or sadness, he wasn't sure.

"Alright." Mary replied, not knowing what else to say. She felt helpless and useless.

Matthew took a deep breath to steady himself. "I should probably go. She might come out of the shower soon."

"OK. Will you let me know what happens?" She asked timidly, unsure whether this was a selfish request or not.

"Of course. I will try to." Matthew promised.

…

Mary couldn't sleep. It was now past 1am and she had a busy day ahead, but tomorrow was the last thing on her mind. This night felt like it would be endless. She had no idea how long the conversation between Matthew and his wife would last, or if it had even started yet. Maybe he had decided to postpone it until tomorrow? But he would surely have texted her to let her know that – he must realise how much this was worrying her! But that was selfish; she mustn't presume that her feelings are always at the forefront of his mind, especially at a time like this.

And so her busy thoughts continued to plague her for another hour as she restlessly moved around the large house. Trying to sleep, going downstairs to get a drink, watching the news to distract herself, deciding to give sleep another try.

After weeks and weeks - what felt like a lifetime - of waiting and fantasising and agonising, it was finally happening. Yet, even after all this time of thinking about it, she was none the wiser as to how it would go. That is what scared her the most. Mental preparation and logical thinking had always been her most reliable friends. They had prepared her for everything that she had come up against in her life. On this occasion, however, they offered neither insight nor solace. Any number of things could happen and it was impossible to brace herself against every one of them. All she could do was try to tame her unbridled thoughts and rampant anxiety and await whatever unpleasant news was in store for her.

The intolerable silence and emptiness of the house was finally pierced by a knock on the door. It was almost two in the morning. Mary was alone in the house. Her instincts should have told her to ignore it - nobody in their right mind would answer the door at this time of night, especially a young woman alone at home. But instead, they told her to open the door.

She was met by a weary, bloodshot-eyed Matthew. His appearance tore at her heart. She had never seen anyone look so deflated.

Words were unnecessary - she knew what had happened. Silently, she took his hand and gently pulled him into the house and over to the sofa in the living room. They sat down next to each other. Mary placed his hand in her lap and lovingly caressed it with both of hers. Matthew was glad of this - the rhythmic stroking of her fingers against his gave him something safe and comforting and reliable for his mind to divert its attention to. He leant back and rested his head against the top of the short sofa, staring up at the ceiling.

Mary knew that she should wait for him to speak first. She couldn't imagine what he had just been through - she had some idea, but it didn't seem like the sort of thing one could fully comprehend unless they had been through it themselves. She would soon be able to count herself as a member of that unlucky group, she reminded herself ruefully.

Yet, the interminable silence was paining her; she needed to know what had happened, where things stood. Mostly, though, she needed to know if Matthew would be alright. As much as logic told her that it wasn't her fault, she held herself at least partly responsible for this. After all, Matthew's marriage may never have ended in this way if it hadn't been for her walking into Matthew's life.

Before she spoke she needed to decide how she should broach the subject. Should she mimic his demeanour and be feeble and weary, as an expression of solidarity and sympathy? Or would he want her to be strong, so that he can draw strength from her? Would it seem insensitive for her to sound like her normal self?

Mercifully for her, Matthew – ever attuned to her thoughts and emotions – spoke up first and answered her unasked question.

"She told me to leave the house." He said, his voice broken. "So I left." He raised and dropped the hand that was in Mary's lap, as if indicating that that was all there was to it.

"And – how did you leave things?" Mary asked very tentatively.

"Not very well." Matthew smiled ruefully.

Mary inwardly cursed herself for asking such a stupid question.

"I told her everything." Matthew sighed deeply. The last thing he wanted to do was relive what he'd just been though, but he knew that Mary would be desperate to know. "I sat her down and said I needed to speak with her. She looked worried. I think she'd been suspecting that things hadn't been normal for a while, anyway."

"Had she been suspecting anything…you know?" Mary asked.

"No. She wasn't expecting what I told her." Matthew said sadly.

Mary's heart contracted at the pained expression on his face. She felt awful that he – loving, kind, considerate Matthew – had experienced something so harrowing.

"I started off saying that recently I hadn't been feeling as happy with the marriage. I don't think she was too taken aback by that admission, but she seemed to presume that it was something we could work on and resolve." Matthew told her. "She asked why. I said that I met someone a few months ago – as soon as I said those words, she paled. I think she knew what was coming. I said that I'd met someone and slowly developed feelings for them, feelings that I shouldn't be having if I was in a solid marriage." He paused. "She started tearing up almost immediately." He frowned, in anguish.

Mary continued rubbing his hands with hers with renewed vigour.

"She asked if anything had happened, but I think she was expecting me to say 'yes'. Not that she took it well when I did say 'yes'."

"What did you tell her?" Mary prompted.

"I said that I hadn't respected her or our marriage at all. I said that I'd slept with someone else but had deliberately refrained from spending too much time with them since. I just told her all the stuff that we talked about, you know." Matthew said drowsily, referring to his and Mary's conversation in the hotel. Mary nodded. "Understandably, it didn't help calm her down. I can't even remember what she said but she shouted and sobbed a lot."

"Alright." Mary nodded in acknowledgement. She didn't actually want to hear precisely what Sophie's response was. She didn't think she could handle it.

"Needless to say, she accepted my suggestion that we end things." Matthew sighed. "So it's done."

The next ten minutes or so were spent in silence.

"How would it even work? You know, logistically?" Matthew asked eventually, with a frown. "The separation, I mean."

"I don't know, darling." Mary said, despairingly frustrated with herself for not being able to give Matthew any answers when he needed her most. She raised his hand to her bent head and kissed the inside of his wrist lovingly - it was a gesture he'd done to her a few times and she'd found it very soothing and comforting, and she hoped that it would have something of the same effect on him.

"Do I call her and ask when is alright for me to come and pick up my things?" Matthew thought out loud. "She wouldn't even answer my calls. But I can't just let myself in to the house and collect my belongings and leave, for her to come home and find everything missing." He said. He fell silent for a moment.

Mary waited patiently for him to continue. It was important for him to voice all of his concerns and, as much as it pained her to listen to him talk about his failed marriage, she would sit and listen until he was ready to stop.

"Where would I even go?" He asked pitifully.

"Maybe your mother's?" Mary offered, tenderly brushing the hair back from his forehead.

"I don't know if even my own mother would want me when she finds out what I did." Matthew said bitterly.

"Of course she would, don't be ridiculous." Mary gently scolded, suppressing the feelings of guilt and fear which threatened to overwhelm her - guilt for having played a part in all of this hurt and upset, and fear of what how her own parents would react.

But it wasn't the time to think of those things. Right now, her attention needed to be solely on Matthew. "I think," she began quietly but more determinedly than she had spoken before, "that you just need to give Sophie some time. It's understandable that she reacted this way. But I doubt she'll never want to see you ever again."

"I'll have to see her again anyway, to sort out the divorce." Matthew muttered.

"Yes, that's true." Mary replied slowly. She'd almost forgotten that ending a marriage is never as quick and as clean as ending any other relationship. "Aside from that, though, even if she didn't need to speak to you, she still would at some point. She will calm down and want to speak to you. Even if it's just to say her piece and explain how she feels. It might not be tomorrow, or this weekend, but it will happen. She'll want closure." Mary persisted.

"I'm not sure I can handle another conversation like that." Matthew exhaled, rubbing his hands over his face.

"It won't be the same." Mary said. "She won't be as angry as she was tonight."

"If you say so." Matthew mumbled.

He hadn't met her eyes or responded to her touches since walking into the house, Mary realised.

"You must want to be alone." She stated. It was natural that he'd want to be by himself for a little while. It wasn't clear how much good she was doing by offering her thoughts and meagre pieces of advice, so perhaps it would be better for her to leave.

"I don't know if I do." Matthew replied wearily, as if he had no idea what he wanted at that moment in time.

Mary smiled at him wanly. "Get some sleep." She urged, soothingly running her fingers along his brow and into his hair. She was dying to stay and hold him and comfort him and love him in the best way that she knew how to, but her sense of propriety told her that Sophie deserved to have her husband - or soon-to-be ex-husband - take time to reflect on their marriage in the aftermath of its end. Like a mourning period of sorts.

"I don't feel right sleeping in this house, Mary." Matthew said, his words almost slurred. He was exhausted. "I'll find a hotel or something."

"There is absolutely no way that you're getting behind the wheel of a car in this state." Mary insisted. It was bad enough that he drove over to her house, but she wasn't going to blame him for that. He'd had no choice but to leave his house. "We have two spare bedrooms or you can sleep here on the sofa."

"Here's fine." Was all Matthew had to say in response. He still looked as if he was mulling things over, even as he spoke. Of course he would be. There was an interminable number of things to mull over.

"Alright." Mary said quietly. "I'll be upstairs - second room on the left - if you need anything. Anything at all." She emphasised. She didn't know if Matthew would fall into a deep sleep immediately, or if he would lie awake with his own thoughts, or if he would want to talk, or cry, or be held by her.

Matthew nodded once in acknowledgement and finally gave her a small smile, squeezing her hand slightly in case the smile didn't adequately convey his gratitude. Mary tried to muster a smile back and tear her hands away from his. She forced herself to stand up and make her way towards the stairs, fighting the urge to go back to him and envelope him in a hug. She didn't want to impose too much affection on him - anything too intimate might confuse him and make him feel worse. Hers was a responsive, reactive role for tonight. With one last look to him, she ascended the steps.

…

Matthew felt empty.

No particular emotion coursed through his veins. It was strange – he had always been overtaken by some sensation or other over the preceding weeks and months, whether it be joy, frustration, confusion, love or guilt. He was an open and expressive person who had chosen to lead a life of emotion. But now, nothing.

Was emptiness an emotion in its own right? Was this actually a distinct, named state which many people more misfortunate than him were commonly afflicted by? Whatever it was, he was desperate to rid himself of this feeling, or lack thereof.

Mary had been lying awake in bed, as she'd expected, since she'd left Matthew downstairs. Alone. She wondered how he was coping. Her body itched to climb out of bed and cascade down the stairs and into his arms, just to _do_ something. She had nothing to offer him but her love, but she worried that it wouldn't be enough to lift his spirits, which seemed to be as low as they'd ever been.

She was astonished, in the most pleasant way, when, at around four in the morning, soft and tired footsteps approached her bedroom. The door opened slowly. She sat upright in bed and pushed the covers away. She and Matthew looked into each other's eyes wordlessly for a moment, having a silent conversation. With the messages conveyed, Matthew reached for Mary's hand and gently tugged her out of her bed. He led her down the stairs, to the hallway, out of the house. Having no key, she made sure to not completely shut the door behind them. Hand still firmly wrapped around hers, Matthew directed her towards his car which was parked in the expansive driveway, under the shade of a hanging tree. He opened the back door and turned to face her, his eyes seeking reassurance.

Mary nodded. _She_ had no problem with this. "Are _you_ sure?" She whispered, practically mouthing the words.

Matthew nodded. "I need you." He mouthed back, his desperate voice just croaking through.

Unable to restrain herself any longer, Mary launched herself against him and kissed him deeply. Matthew's response was immediate and eager and hungry, his hands clutched the soft material at her back. Mary moaned with desire, but also with exasperation at not being able to demonstrate the depth of her love quickly or fully enough.

Matthew's hands slid to her hips, guiding her inside the car. He bent his head with her, breaking apart only when absolutely necessary to allow Mary to slide into the backseat, him promptly following. The car door shut firmly behind them.

Their next movements were a blur of shifting and rustling of clothes and stroking and caressing and fingers raking over skin. Their next sounds were the parting and meeting of their puckered lips in hasty succession, quickening heartbeats, sighs and moans and hushed endearments. The sound of the old car creaking and rocking from side to side as the glorious feel of the other's hips beating against theirs repeated over and over again until they fused together and peaked as one.

…

_A/N: I'm SO sorry it's taken this long to update! Hopefully you understand that it was a difficult chapter to write. I also hope you understand why it ended the way that it did._

_Thank you all soooo much for all your consistent and continuous reviews and thoughts. I love reading how people interpret things and the little things that you enjoyed. Your reviews definitely spur me on to keep going with this story, even as it gets more taxing to write. So thank you! xxx_


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: guys. I must have got about 60 reviews for the last chapter. Thank you SO much for your support! I'm so glad that you all enjoyed it. It was a difficult one to write and a sensitive topic to handle so it is really reassuring to know that I'm doing alright with it. Thanks again! It definitely helped me to write this next chapter much more quickly than I otherwise would have __ xxx_

…

Mary's eyes fluttered open. There was a heavy presence on top of her, acting as an obstacle to her movements. She always tossed and turned a bit in her sleep, but couldn't seem to now. As her eyes opened, the immediate sight of thick blonde hair reminded her where she was.

Matthew had fallen asleep shortly after they'd made love, still inside her, with his head resting upon her shoulder. The knowledge that his mind was peaceful enough for him to sleep – at least for now – helped Mary drift off into slumber herself. She didn't know how long they'd been like that; it was bright and very sunny outside now, but she didn't feel well-rested, so it was difficult to know. What she did know, however, was that she was uncomfortable and extremely warm. The car, which was stuffy at the best of times, had steamed up from the heat of their exertions and the glowing sunshine beaming in through the windows was making it difficult to breathe.

Removing her arm from around Matthew's neck, she reached behind her and skilfully opened the door, leaving it slightly ajar to allow some cool air to filter in. It did provide some relief from the suffocating environment, but she soon realised that the larger source of the problem was the grown man who was lying on top of her. She tried to readjust herself underneath him as smoothly and discreetly as possible. Unfortunately her characteristic elegance betrayed her, and she ended up sharply kicking Matthew's calf.

With a grunt, Matthew's head lifted up and his eyes opened. The sunlight pouring into the car hit his irises and gave Mary a spectacular close-up of the brilliant blue peeking through the slits of his sleepy eyes.

"Mmm," Matthew sighed contentedly upon realising where he was and who he was with, his head re-burying itself in the crook of her neck.

Mary smiled warmly. "Are you alright?" She asked kindly, running her fingers through the hair near his temple. She wasn't sure what sort of mood he'd be in.

"I'm as well as I can be." Matthew replied, looking up and into her eyes. "Thank you, Mary."

"There is absolutely nothing to thank me for." Mary told him firmly. "I wish I could do more."

Matthew shook his head. "You're here, you exist. That's enough for me to feel better about it all." He kissed her cheek before leaning up to look at her again. His mouth parted to speak, but Mary quickly silenced them with a finger on his lips.

"Before you say anything, there is nothing to apologise for either." She pre-empted him, recognising the hint of regret in his eyes.

The corner of his mouth turned up with affection. "Oh, I must be crushing you!" He said suddenly, and promptly sat up to allow Mary to move.

"You were indeed." Mary teased.

"You should've just pushed me away." Matthew said, his brow knitting in concern at her lengthy period of discomfort.

"I tried to but you're quite heavy, you know." Mary retorted. "Have you been comfort-eating lately or something?" She joked, patting his flat stomach as if it were a rounded belly.

"Oi," Matthew smirked, gently pushing away the hand that was playfully pinching his cheek. Mary was beyond relieved to see him looking more like himself again. She suspected that it wouldn't last long – he would at some point be hit with the reality of what had happened the previous night. "So what are you doing today?" He asked, playing with her fingers.

"Erm, I'm actually quite busy today…" Mary said regretfully.

"It's fine, Mary. I'm not expecting you to drop everything for me." Matthew assured her. "Besides, I should go to see my Mum. I don't want to keep this from her – I've always told her everything. I sort of need her advice, too, about what to do."

Mary nodded. "Alright, well, I'm free tomorrow?" She offered. "We can spend the day together if you like. I'll just tell everyone that I'm out shopping."

"You're not worried about anyone seeing us? I don't particularly want to be spotted." Matthew almost cringed at the thought of how awful that would be – to be seen out with another woman a mere day after breaking his wife's heart, and for Mary to be seen with another man while still married.

Mary pondered places for them to escape to. "We'll go for a drive, to a village in Hertfordshire or somewhere like that. The weather's supposed to be good so we can have a picnic and go for a walk!" She said cheerily, imagining all the things they could do together.

Matthew smiled broadly at her enthusiasm. "That sounds perfect." He brought her hand up to his mouth and placed a firm kiss on the back of it. The need to spend time together, now that they felt some semblance of freedom to do so, overwhelmed them both. They were both going through testing times, but the company of the other provided a safe haven from it all. It provided them with comfort that they were doing the right thing.

Eyeing him curiously for a moment, Mary asked, "How are you really feeling?" She looked at him searchingly, wanting to make sure that he wasn't putting on a brave face for her sake.

"Honestly?" Matthew asked rhetorically. "I'm immensely relieved." He confessed. "I didn't realise how much I was being weighed down by guilt and longing - all this time the burden had been steadily increasing, but so gradually and sub-consciously that I had no idea." He frowned in thought. "I think last night I was a bit shell-shocked. The decision to tell her was made fairly suddenly and it was all a bit of a blur. But after sleeping – and after seeing _you_ – I feel much better." He said sincerely.

"Good, I'm glad." Mary replied softly. "But you can still take all the time you need to be alone or be with your mother." She said seriously, back-tracking from her earlier ideas about their day-trip. "I don't want to push you into spending time with me if that's not what you want."

Matthew looked at her pointedly. "Mary, you do realise that the whole reason any of this happened is because spending time with you is _precisely_ what I want?" Mary's face coloured pink in embarrassment. "Goodness, I hope you're a bit quicker-witted than this when you're at work." He goaded.

Her eyes automatically narrowed at him, but Mary was inwardly rejoicing. It felt so _nice_ to be here with him like this, free to talk and caress and joke. Well, half-free – there was still her family to deal with. But this was still the best situation they'd ever been in together. Buoyed by this realisation and by the thought of their day tomorrow, she leaned over and gave Matthew a proper kiss.

"Speaking of work," she began, affectionately smoothing her hand down the front of Matthew's shirt. "I'm supposed to be meeting Dad for brunch with an advertising agent at 10am…" She sighed and looked up at Matthew apologetically.

"So you should probably start getting ready." Matthew finished her sentence for her. He shook his head with a smile, knowing that she felt like she was abandoning him in his time of need. "I'm telling you the truth, Mary – it's fine. I'm fine. I'll go to my Mum's place now and you can call me later when you're finished with work and we'll make arrangements for tomorrow." He said rationally, eliciting a reassured look from Mary.

"Alright." She couldn't help but smile when Matthew kissed her again. She shuffled out of the car and was almost at her front door again when Matthew called her name.

"Do you have a charger I could use? My phone's died on me." He held up the phone and showed her its blacked-out screen.

"Yeah, should do." Mary replied, approaching him to check what model he had. "Come inside and you can have a look." Matthew got out of the car and followed her into the house.

"There should be some upstairs, I'll bring them down." Mary said as she ascended the staircase.

Matthew waited in the hallway, his eyes aimlessly wandering around the room. They settled on the large grandfather clock in the corner. _Must be a family heirloom_, he thought, appraising its 19th century features. It was probably worth a sizeable sum, given that it was still in very good condition…although it appeared to be broken – the time showing on its face was incorrect. But then he noticed that the second hand was still ticking around, and his eyes grew wide in alarm just as he heard Mary curse loudly on the floor above him.

His head snapped round as he heard her footsteps run down the stairs, her expression panic-stricken.

"It's 11.20!" She cried. "Dad's left me four voicemails. How did this happen?" She held one hand to her head as she scrolled through the messages on her phone.

"Well…we probably didn't fall asleep until about 5am or so…" Matthew pointed out. "We must have both fallen into such a deep sleep that it felt like no time at all." He watched Mary frown as she finished listening to the first voicemail and moved onto the second. "Everything alright?" He asked.

"No, no, no," Mary muttered to herself, "no, that's a _bad_ idea…" She told her phone, finally selecting the fourth voicemail to listen to.

"What is it?" Matthew asked, her countenance suggesting that he should be worried.

"Dad's –" Mary began, only to be cut off by the sound of the doorbell ringing loudly.

Matthew's eyes darted to the door and back to Mary, silently asking her a question. His heart sank when she gave an almost imperceptible nod. They merely stared at each other, at a loss, while the doorbell continued to sound out shrilly in the hallway. Eventually, for the sake of ending the piercing noise, Mary moved over to the front door and opened it just enough to see who was on the other side, despite already knowing.

"Mary, what on _Earth_ happened?" Matthew heard Robert's raised voice, although he could not see him from where he was standing. "I've been trying to get a hold of you for over an hour! You didn't show up at all!" He pushed his way through the door, and Matthew braced himself, for the second time in twelve hours, for the inevitable onslaught. "You knew how important that meeting was and –" Robert cut himself off abruptly. He had just spotted Matthew.

Too exhausted to actively explain anything, Mary decided to remain silent and simply respond to her father's remarks.

Having been blinded by his indignation, Robert paused to survey Matthew's dishevelled appearance – his ruffled hair, his shirt untucked and half unbuttoned and his tired eyes, as if he'd only just woken up. He then turned to look at Mary, only just noticing that she was still in her nightdress. He turned back to Matthew. "So it's your car in the driveway, then." He said, with a tone of understanding.

"Yes." Matthew replied quietly, unsure what to expect.

"When did you arrive here?" Robert asked. His demeanour was calm – too calm. It worried Mary. She could sense that something tumultuous was brewing beneath the composed exterior.

"A-a while ago." Matthew said evasively, not wanting to invite more questions. "It's my fault that Mary missed your meeting; I was a bit upset and she stayed with me to talk me through it. Sorry." He apologised. There was a feeling of discomfort and suspicion between him and Robert now, one which had never existed between the two of them before. It saddened him.

"Oh? And what problems do you have that require such urgent assistance from my daughter?" Robert raised an eyebrow, his distrust clear.

"Dad!" Mary interjected. "That's a private question."

"Fod God's sake, Mary, I'm not an idiot!" Robert exploded, finally losing his patience. "What is going on here?" He looked between the two of them.

Matthew peered at Mary. She gave him a look which told him that she would do the talking. He had been screamed at enough lately – she should bear the brunt of the shouting from her father, not him. Quickly formulating a strategy in her mind, she estimated that it would be best to just come out with it. Protracted arguments and skirting around the issue would be of no use, and the truth was bound to come out anyway. It was wisest to be blunt.

"Matthew and I are…in a relationship," Mary began, suddenly realising that she didn't know quite how to define their circumstances, "and we want to be together. I'm going to break things off with Ash soon." She explained. Robert did not react other than to gaze at her, dumb-founded. "Matthew spoke to his wife last night, which is why he's here now." She thought she'd use her father's silence to elaborate, only there didn't seem much more to say. It was strange that something that had been so clandestine and torturous and complicated could be distilled into a few short sentences.

Mary watched her father as his face steadily grew in colour until it was almost totally red. Instead of directing his rage at her, however, he faced Matthew.

"What is the meaning of this?" He shouted.

"Robert, we-" Matthew began.

"Don't you_ dare_ try to justify yourself to me!" Robert cut him off, presuming that he was about to hear some spurious excuse escape Matthew's lips. "I take you under my wing, mentor you, introduce you to my contacts, dedicate more time than your business ideas are worth to advise you and _this _is what you do? Dance around with my daughter behind my back?" He bellowed.

"No, I – " Matthew stammered, taken aback by the fierceness of Robert's reaction. Tears were stinging at the back of his eyes. He'd greatly valued Robert as a friend and mentor during the formative years of his adulthood, and now he had lost his trust and his respect.

"Dad, we're not just fooling around." Mary said sternly, angry that she was being ignored. "We're in love and -"

"Oh don't give me all that bullshit." Robert dismissed her with an aggressive wave of his hand. "This isn't a fairytale. You two are both intelligent adults – you knew exactly what was happening and you knew what you were doing. I had my suspicions but let it slide in the mistaken belief that you would come to your senses. But I will absolutely _not_ tolerate any more of this nonsense!" His voice rose again.

"This isn't something for you to 'tolerate', this is something that is going to happen." Mary said with conviction, although she feared that her arguments were futile. Her father was, by and large, a rational and reasonable man. But he held his pride above all other qualities and he had a few personal prejudices which were deeply embedded in his psyche. When any of these came into play, it was near impossible to change his mind and any words against him only fuelled his outrage.

Robert let out a rueful chuckle. He let his gaze linger on the floor for a few seconds before looking back up at Mary. When he met her eyes, there was a look on his face nothing short of utter disappointment.

"You know, I thought I'd never have to worry about you, Mary." He said, much more quietly than before. "I never thought you'd trouble us, never thought you'd even _risk_ disgracing the family, given that you have the most pride out of all my daughters. Now, you're throwing everything away. You've forgotten who you are."

"And what exactly am I forgetting?" Mary challenged. She was incensed by his words, but a small part of her was devastated that his reaction was so adverse, albeit expectedly so.

"Well, Mary, if I haven't gotten the message to you over the past 26 years then I don't stand much of a chance of succeeding within the next five minutes." Robert replied bitterly.

"So what would you have me do? Force me to remain married to someone who I don't love?" Mary asked.

"Don't be so dramatic." Robert tutted. "You were perfectly content a few months ago. Besides, I think you've made it quite clear that you're not going to listen to me."

"But if you had your way?" Mary prompted, wanting him to explain what he wanted from her so that she could attack it from a logical perspective. That was the most effective way to appeal to his senses.

"If I had my way then I would have a daughter who respected her upbringing!" Robert shouted again. "And a student who respected me!" He turned to Matthew, who determinedly did not look away from his reproachful stare. The appearance of shame would lead Robert to think that their relationship was nothing more than a bit of physical fun, and he wanted to do everything he could to combat that notion.

Mary sighed deeply, her breath shaky. "It seems like you're not going to understand where I'm coming from." She told her father.

"No, I most certainly won't." Robert shook his head resolutely. "Going through a divorce will damage your work with the company, it will lower our standing among our friends and –"

"How will it do that, Dad?" Mary asked him exasperatedly. "This is the 21st century, divorce is not just for social pariahs. Jane Morley got divorced a few years ago and you and Mum still dine with her!"

"That was very different." Robert said sternly. "That poor woman was being abused by her husband, it wasn't a true marriage. She had no choice but to leave him and wasn't ruining anything by doing so. _You_ do have a choice. You've married well and you're not being mistreated in any shape or form-"

"You know that Ash and I don't love each other." Mary interrupted him again, her voice rich with bitterness.

"You could have loved him if you'd given him a chance!" Robert countered. "We never forced you into anything, you were more than happy to go into the marriage. It's not even a year since you got married and instead of working on your relationship you're letting yourself be seduced by this man," Robert gestured towards Matthew, "and God knows how many others."

Matthew opened his mouth to retort, furious at Robert's assertions, but Mary caught his eye and shook her head. Purely because he didn't want to make the situation any worse for her, he shut his mouth.

"So my happiness means nothing in all of this." Mary said matter-of-factly.

Robert scoffed and looked up to the ceiling. "You're mistaking happiness for getting what you want, Mary. This is pure selfishness, with no regard for me, or your family's history, or your family's future, or the business."

There was no way she was going to persuade him to see the situation from her point of view, Mary thought sadly. She shrugged in resignation. "I have nothing else to say to you other than that this divorce is going to happen whether you like it or not. Disown me if you want."

Robert glared at her. "And let you shirk even more of your responsibilities?" He said incredulously. "Nice try."

Mary looked to Matthew with exasperation. Matthew had no idea what to do. It was all so unfair.

The trio stood in the hallway in silence for a minute. Eventually, Robert spoke. "I'm leaving. The meeting with the advertiser has been rescheduled for tomorrow instead. I can't go but I expect you to be there this time." He warned Mary. He didn't even grant Matthew the courtesy of acknowledging him before turning to walk out of the front door, letting it slam shut behind him.

Matthew looked at Mary; she was staring intently at the floor, her arms crossed over her chest, her body tense.

"Well, I think I need a cup of tea after that." She said with surprising nonchalance. Matthew watched her glide over to the kitchen. He knew that she wasn't as collected as she made herself appear. But she clearly wanted to be alone. He waited for a few minutes before entering the kitchen, to find Mary leaning against the counter, her body shaking violently with her sobs.

"Mary, Mary," Matthew rushed over to her, gently turning her around and pulling her into his embrace. "Shh, it's alright." He soothed, trying to calm her trembles.

The feel of Matthew's hand warmly rubbing up and down her back in a steady rhythm, coupled with his tender assurances, helped Mary quieten and control her breathing enough to speak. "All he cares about is his stupid family reputation!" She choked. "And his business. That's all I am – I'm just a means to carry on the bloodline and bring more money and prosperity into the Crawley dynasty."

"That's not all you are." Matthew told her, kissing her hairline.

"It is. That's probably all he sees when he looks at me - another employee, a successor. Not a daughter." She stopped crying and looked sullenly at the floor. "And to think, all this time I thought he'd raised me to have dignity and pride and ambition because he had my best interests at heart and wanted to equip me with the best qualities. But clearly he was doing it for his own personal gain." She shook her head as fresh tears fell down her cheeks. "Why doesn't he care about how I feel?" She asked sadly.

Matthew's heart broke for her. He tightened his arms around her and renewed his caresses and soft kisses on her hair, holding back his own tears of frustration at the injustice of it all.

"He just doesn't _understand_ how you feel." He said patiently. "He's hurt because he feels like you're disobeying him and he's disappointed because he thinks you're giving up on your marriage easily. Remember – he doesn't know how close we are or what we've been through. As far as he knows, we've only met a few times and…slept together."

"Well then he should listen to me when I tell him what the situation is!" Mary protested.

"I know, I know." Matthew replied, massaging the back of her neck gently with one hand.

"He's treating me like I'm some dirty, troubled deviant." Mary said. Her head was still resting on Matthew's chest but her tears had stopped flowing.

"I still can't believe he's so uptight about what other people will think." Matthew shook his head in disbelief.

"Yes, well, he's still clinging on to the fact that his grandfather was an Earl." Mary scoffed. The Earldom had died out when Robert's maternal grandfather failed to produce an heir and the family gave up on trying to find a suitable one, given that the Earl no longer wielded any real power in the county. But Robert remained convinced that he was honour-bound by the gene pool and was obligated to live his life by a certain code of conduct. It was this conviction that had helped make Crawleys' such a success and lend it its air of exclusivity and aristocracy. He had mentioned this to Matthew, in fact, during his time as Matthew's management tutor at Cambridge, so Matthew had some insight into this frame of mind.

The two of them remained standing, wrapped in each other's arms, swaying slightly side to side in a comforting way.

"I'm sorry." Matthew whispered into Mary's hair.

"What for?" Mary asked curiously.

"I should never have come here. I should have just gone to my mother's place and left you alone and this wouldn't have happened."

Mary tutted. "Matthew, this was going to happen at some point."

"Not like this." Matthew argued. "You can't deny that there were better ways that he could have found out about us."

"I'm not sure how much difference it would make, to be honest." Mary sighed. Matthew kissed her forehead again and she pulled away from his embrace enough to kiss him. "You should go to your mother's place." Mary gently traced her thumb over his lips.

"I'm not leaving you." Matthew said immediately.

"It's fine. Ash might be home soon, anyway." Mary insisted, extricating herself from his strong grasp.

"Alright." Matthew reluctantly let go of her but took her fingers in his, needing to touch her, for his own comfort as well as hers. "I'm not sure I have the energy to explain this all to my Mum; I might go to stay at my friend Tariq's tonight. I'm meant to be going over there this afternoon anyway to help him settle in to his new place."

"OK." Mary nodded. "Look, I know we said we'd spend tomorrow together-" She began.

"Go to the meeting, Mary." Matthew insisted. "I'm not going to ask you to jeopardise anything else just to see me. Your job's more important." He said, even though he was thoroughly dispirited to know that their idyllic day had been so brutally thwarted.

"My job is not more important than you." Mary said firmly. Matthew just smiled at her lovingly and kissed her again.

"I'll speak to you later tonight." He promised her as they made their way back to the hallway.

…

_A/N: so, another emotionally-charged chapter! I wanted to let them have a couple of light-hearted moments early on in the chapter. Things are moving along quite quickly now! xxx_


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N: SO, the next chapter is here! I've been working on it for a while – your loyalty and support is absolutely wonderful but it means that I feel more pressure with each chapter to make it live up to your expectations! I feel very bad for not being able to reply to all the amazing reviews and messages, but I hope that an update will suffice!_

_I've tried a slightly new structure with this one, I hope it makes sense…_

…

The feel of a warm body gently stirring beside him flooded Matthew with relief. Forcing his eyes open in order to leave his disturbingly vivid dreams behind him, he stared longingly, and gratefully, at the sleeping beauty who lay mere inches away. The images that his short nap had conjured up had left him rattled, so it seemed something of a miracle to have Mary next to him like this.

He had dreamt that he and Mary had been too stubborn and weak to succumb to their mutual feelings, instead persisting with their respective marriages and seeing each other with decreasing regularity. Monthly meetings turned into quarterly encounters, then yearly chance sightings across crowded rooms and streets. Their later meetings were fraught with frustration and blame that they had not yet fallen out of love with each other, despite all their attempts, and this anguish manifested itself as anger; heated arguments became common, occasionally interrupted by a passionate and guilt-ridden kiss, which only made them more determined that staying apart was the best cure for this madness to which they could see no end. Upon reaching their mid-30s, with a handful of children between them, it one day dawned on this version of Matthew that his future would grow increasingly bleak. The trend of the last few years would continue and he would see Mary less and less. Robert, his only direct link with her, had just passed away, and he doubted that she would continue Robert's tradition of annual Cambridge alumni reunions for his former students. He couldn't even console her at the funeral, having to keep a respectable distance and watch from afar as she stood with her young family. Thoughts of his own death swam in his mind - he would die with someone else by his side, still in love with Mary, most likely after a long period of isolation from her. Would she even know about it? Conversely, would he ever hear if something happened to her? The utter sadness and regret tore him apart inside, like a war of attrition, until he was permanently broken.

Mercifully, a delicate foot collided with his shin just as real tears threatened to fall down his sleeping face, and the hateful vision of what could have been vanished as he awoke.

Still quite shaken by what his subconscious had shown him, Matthew continued to watch Mary sleep, finding solace in her presence. It would have been so easy for the scenario in his dream to have happened in reality. All it would have taken was a bit less bravery, a bit less confidence in the other's affections, fewer chances to be alone together. What would have happened if Robert hadn't left them alone that evening, after drinks, on the night they first got together? Would they have ever kissed, let alone slept together and revealed the extent of their love? What if Sophie had become pregnant? However difficult things had been for them, they were incredibly lucky, Matthew realised. His perspective of their situation changed radically.

Mary wriggled onto her stomach and a smile crept over her peaceful face, eyes still closed, as her arm made contact with Matthew's chest. Delight rippled through Matthew's body - she was as happy to be reminded of his presence as he was of hers. Her eyes opened slowly and twinkled at him. He reached over and stroked her cheek then buried his hand in her hair, sending tingles all over her scalp, before running his palm down her neck and over her back.

"Did you sleep well?" Mary murmured, her eyelids drooping shut again at the feel of Matthew's warm hand on her.

Matthew hummed in affirmation. He wanted to share his terrible dream with her, but not now. She seemed too content. "You?"

Mary nodded into her pillow. "I'm sure I could sleep for a couple more hours, though." She buried her face into the pillow to cover her yawn. "This bed is so comfy."

Matthew chuckled. "It is. I'd forgotten how good this mattress was. You can sleep more if you want." He told her, massaging her scalp again.

"Stop it." Mary moaned, eliciting another laugh from Matthew. He'd recently discovered that this sensation agreed with Mary very well, often sending her into a drowsy mood. She had not, however, appreciated his comparison of her to his childhood pet cat, Oliver, who had also liked to be massaged in this way. "We can't sleep anymore." She said resolutely, dragging her heavy head off the pillow and raising herself up on to one arm.

"Why not?" Matthew asked.

"Because I still haven't explored this room enough." Mary smirked, slipping out of the bed and straightening her pyjama shorts, then laughed at Matthew's displeased moan.

"There's really not much to discover here, you know." Matthew tried to persuade her, worried what she might find hidden in his childhood bedroom. "What are you looking for?" He asked Mary, who was now padding around the room, eagerly peering into boxes and drawers, like a magpie in search of treasure.

"Nothing in particular." Mary responded. "Although some baby pictures wouldn't be unwelcome. I can imagine you being a fat baby." She grinned over her shoulder.

"Gee, thanks. I won't ask you what makes you say that." Matthew deadpanned, getting out of the bed himself. "I feel like I should've inspected the contents of the room before I let you in here." Matthew sighed, surveying the cluttered room. "I've forgotten half of what this stuff is."

"Weren't you interested to see what was in here when you moved back in?" Mary asked him, approaching a small table that was swamped with books and journals.

"I think I had other things on my mind when I came back here." Matthew said wryly, and Mary glanced back at him apologetically. Of course, he had arrived back at his mother's house – the house in which he had grown up – with quite a dismal tale to tell her. Reminiscing about his teenage years and perusing his VHS collection probably wasn't high on his to-do list. Matthew gave her a small reassuring smile and kissed the side of her head before looking at what she was doing. "If you're hoping to find porn or other incriminating material in there then you're going to be disappointed." He said pointedly, seeing that she was rifling through a stack of old magazines.

Mary giggled. "I don't believe that a teenage boy could own this much stuff and have it all be perfectly innocent." Mary narrowed her eyes at him in faux-suspicion.

"But I was a good boy." Matthew said earnestly, engaging his puppy-dog eyes for her.

"Even good boys can't put up with all these science journals without a bit of dirty distraction." Mary retorted, stifling her fond smile at his expression. "What were you doing reading all this 'New Scientist', anyway?" She asked, leafing through an edition from 2003. "You knew you wanted to be a lawyer."

"I had other interests too." Matthew shrugged. "I was pretty into microbiology, actually."

"Loser." Mary scoffed, trying to back away as Matthew grabbed her around the waist and lifted her into the air.

"Yes, that's what all the other kids in my school called me too." He told her, although he was smirking. "But look at me now – I have the most beautiful woman in the world to spend my days with." He smiled at her dreamily before planting a kiss on her mouth. "Anyway, I have much more time to remind myself of what's in here now that I've been banished from the guest room." He teased, nipping her lips lovingly before setting her back down.

"Would you rather I stayed somewhere else?" Mary asked. Before Matthew could answer, she said, "I won't be here long, in any case, so you can return to the more comfortable room soon."

"No, no," Matthew shook his head vigorously, his eyes wide in alarm. "No, I don't want you to leave soon! I just-"

"Matthew, I know you were joking." Mary laughed at his worried countenance. "But I don't want to impose on Isobel any longer than necessary."

"You're not imposing on _anyone._" Matthew told her firmly. Mary smiled up at him gratefully and kissed his cheek. She removed herself from his arms, her eyes lit up in glee, as she spotted a pile of photo-albums that had a distinctly mid-1980s look about them.

"Oh, God." Matthew moaned, realising that she had uncovered the dreaded photos.

"Oh, Matthew!" Mary cried. She was already knelt on the floor with a large album open on her lap. "I had no idea that you were so averse to wearing clothes!" She said through her laughter, which was growing with each picture of naked baby Matthew that she came across. She squealed as Matthew pounced on her, playfully wrestling her to the floor to retrieve the album and tickling her in the process.

…

_A lot had happened in the two weeks since Matthew had revealed the affair to Sophie. After what felt like an eternity of stagnation and yearning, the past fortnight had been a rollercoaster, but it was finally starting to look like things were headed in the right direction. _

_Mary had been unsure whether her father would tell the rest of the family, but he didn't – instead, he preferred to sweep the revelations under the carpet and pretend that none of it had ever happened, in the futile hope that Mary would follow his lead in her treatment of Matthew. Nevertheless, Mary was glad that the majority of her family were still in the dark because it gave her the opportunity to speak to Ash first, before the situation became even more tumultuous. After speaking with Matthew, she strongly felt that it was only right that Ash should be aware of the state of his marriage before anyone else – Mary felt like too many people already knew about it, now that Matthew had told his mother and a few close friends. _

_Isobel's reaction was probably what Matthew had expected it to be – although, as he had learnt from the aftermath of Mary's recent conversation with Ash, it was safest not to form any expectations at all of how people would react. The news had come completely out of the blue for Isobel – she had known about a couple of problems between Matthew and Sophie regarding disagreement over Matthew's career, but she would never have suspected her son of infidelity. "You never even cheated on a test at school!" She'd exclaimed, pure astonishment, mixed with disappointment, etched on her face. After a little while of listening to his mother thinking aloud and watching her pace around, all in a flutter, Matthew had urged her to sit down. She'd managed to remain largely silent while he explained what had happened over the last few months, both before and after he met Mary. _

_Once the initial shock had subsided and she'd had a chance to let Matthew's explanation settle in, Isobel had insisted that Matthew stay with her; Matthew had initially suggested finding a flat to rent temporarily, as he didn't want to trouble his mother, who was always very busy, and he was still doubtful as to how much she'd love him after hearing what he'd done, but Isobel would hear none of it. All of his possessions were still at his and Sophie's house, but thankfully he had enough old clothes remaining at Isobel's to be able to get by, and he'd bought whatever else he needed. Isobel grew surprisingly supportive of his decision to leave his marriage and discussed the circumstances at length with him, which helped clear his head enormously. As much as he loved Mary and as intelligent as she was, they were both too involved in the situation to be able to think clearly; the more objective opinions of Isobel were therefore highly valuable. He soon appreciated just how lucky he was to have a mother who he'd always been so close to and, more importantly, one who trusted him._

…

"Here it is! I've been wondering where this go to." Matthew grinned with delighted recognition as he glanced at the old book in his hands, with its worn cover and well-used pages. "E.L. Thompson – the Making of the English Working Class." He read the cover out loud. "This is a really good book." He told Mary, who was now rummaging through his old school exercise books. After seeing some of the long-forgotten items that Mary had dug out from the clutter, Matthew was overcome with a wave of nostalgia and was now eagerly searching through his old possessions, most of which he hadn't seen since he left home for university.

"I know, I've read it too." Mary replied quietly without looking up, blushing as she felt Matthew whip round and stare at her.

"You have?" Matthew said incredulously. "When? Why?"

"I might be interested in that kind of thing." Mary challenged, taking slight offence at the magnitude of Matthew's disbelief. His sceptical expression only strengthened, however, so she relented with a delicate sigh. "You mentioned it to me once. Then, while we were apart for a couple of weeks just before your birthday, I remembered you saying that you liked it. So I thought I'd read it." She explained.

"Why would you do that?" Matthew asked softly, hoping that he already knew the answer. He was aware of her having read books that he favoured, but it was usually only after he'd explicitly recommended them to her.

Mary gave him a playful glare – she knew that he was deliberately making her speak about her feelings and she wanted to let him know that she wasn't very happy about it. "Because…I missed you very much and…I wanted to find some way to be close to you." She admitted shyly. "I felt like it connected me to you in some way."

Matthew smiled at her wistfully. He knew exactly what she meant – whenever he had longed for her, so painfully, he had sought out some facet of her that he could occupy his time with. It was the closest he could get to surrounding himself with her, to somehow get to know her better without her actually being there. He recalled that he had, on numerous occasions, buried his nose in editions of the Financial Times and Forbes, knowing that she read them on a regular basis. He smiled inwardly at how diametrically opposed their respective reading material was. "When did I mention it to you? I don't even remember that conversation." He asked, having been so sure that he had committed all of their time together to memory so that he could relive each moment during their times apart.

"During dinner, the night we got together." Mary replied. "I wasn't sure if telling me about post-war retrospectives on the working class was your idea of flirting, but I thought I'd give you the benefit of the doubt."

Matthew laughed. "Well, that was very generous of you." He joked. "I still can't believe you read the whole thing." He plopped the weighty book down onto the floor beside where he was sat.

"I only finished it the other day." Mary said quietly, picking up a stack of Matthew's old history essays.

…

_Mary had been leafing through The Making of the English Working Class, not really taking it in but seeking solace in its pages, when her husband entered the room. She'd initially paid no attention to his entrance, but his laughter caused her to look up._

"_What's that you're reading?" Ash said derisively, still grinning in amusement. "Don't let your Granny catch you with that or you'll be disowned!" _

_Mary didn't find the notion of her being disowned by her family particularly funny these days, given that it felt like a distinct possibility after her father's reaction to her affair, but she forced a small smile. At least he was trying to make conversation. She herself had given up all attempts at conversation with Ash other than when it was necessary; to let him know that she was going out, or to hand him any letters that had arrived for him that day, for example. Anything more friendly would feel fake and insincere, and she felt like she was constantly on the brink of confessing to him but was always lacking that extra bit of courage that she needed to actually do it._

"_Have you got plans for this evening?" She asked, noticing that his hair was more coiffed than usual. It was a Tuesday and he usually stayed in to catch up on his correspondence, so she'd been expecting him to remain in the house. _

"_Just going to see a few friends." Ash replied distantly, quickly polishing his shoes with a thick brush. Mary paused expectantly, waiting to see if she got given any more information. She received none._

_A thought suddenly dawned on her. "Have you ever cheated on me?" _

_The sound of the hard bristles on the thick leather stopped abruptly as Ash sharply looked up. Mary's face was calm. It seemed silly to her now, that she hadn't thought of the possibility before – but she had never questioned his whereabouts and, frankly, she hadn't care all that much either. It was an unspoken rule that his business was his business alone, and the same applied to hers. Whether his 'business' was clean or not was seemingly none of her concern._

_Ash stayed silent for a little while and Mary felt her pulse quicken. She was almost wishing for him to say 'yes'. It would alleviate so much of the burden of the break-up if their indiscretions had been mutual and they both had other partners to go to, a brighter future to contemplate. _

"_I-" Ash began croakily, then cleared his throat. "I've never had an affair." He said confidently, truthfully. _

_But Mary wasn't disheartened. She'd had plenty of experience of people – colleagues, accountants, friends, family - choosing their words carefully so as not to cross her and to save their own back. "You've never had an affair." Mary repeated. Ash nodded. "But have you ever cheated on me?" She reiterated. _

_Ash paled slightly at his wife's astuteness. "I have, yes." He said sombrely. _

_Mary's instinctive response was to ask him exactly what he'd done and how many times, but her brain intervened and told her that that would be unfair. Given her own conduct, she was in no position to question him. She had a feeling, however, that Ash's misbehaviour preceded her own, and had happened far more regularly. She half admired him, really, for pursuing some form of intimacy and romance, however fleeting and superficial, to compensate for a loveless marriage. It was something that she'd never done herself. If she hadn't fallen in love with Matthew, she probably would have continued to live with him in ignorance for most of her life. _

"_Look, I know it's wrong of me-" Ash began snappily, about to try to justify his actions._

"_Ash," Mary held a hand up to stop him. His excuses were unnecessary and she didn't want to waste time hearing them. "It's OK. I'm not angry. I have no right to be. I've not been faithful either." She said, almost smiling as she made the admission. Surely it was a relief for them both, to know that they no longer had to maintain the charade, to waste their lives?_

_Rather than relief, however, Ash's expression took on a much more negative tone. Indeed, he looked nothing short of outraged. _

"_You've been cheating on me?" He said, and his voice frightened her. _

"_Well, yes, but it's only because I fell in love with – Ash, you know that we're not in love!" Mary explained, trying to appeal to his common sense._

_But Ash did not react well to this news. Mary recalled once telling Matthew that she and Ash had never really argued, because they didn't care enough. She now realised that one thing that seemed to matter a great deal to Ash was his manhood, and Mary's revelation posed a serious affront to it. _

_And so they argued, shouted, screamed at each other, for the first and last time. She called him a bad husband. He called her a whore. He looked at her with disgust and she looked at him with disdain. Both agreed that they wanted a divorce and they fought over who would be the first to file for it, to gain the upper hand. Ash warned her to watch out because she would be left with nothing. She told him she didn't want anything from him – he had given her nothing during the marriage, anyway. _

_He asked who the other man was, and Mary refused to divulge his identity. Ash knew Matthew, knew where he lived. She didn't think he would do anything violent, but there was no need to escalate the situation further. _

_That night, Ash left for his parents' place, giving Mary the opportunity to call Matthew and update him. She omitted certain details – there was no need to tell him all the terrible things that Ash had said to her, and she almost felt embarrassed to tell him all the terrible things that she'd said back. They had both been overwhelmingly angry and hurt – Ash in particular. And that had surprised Mary greatly. _

_Mary was alone in the house for two days, and she began searching for flats and hotels nearby. She wasn't sure if she'd need them, though; Ash was hardly in the house anyway and, even if he was, it was large enough (and they both had busy enough lives) that they could both live in it without ever needing to see each other. _

_On the second morning, while she was replying to a text from Matthew, she heard the patter of letters dropping from the letter-box onto the hard wooden floor. Picking them up, she saw that they were mostly bills and business-related correspondence. One letter, though, was addressed to Mary in handwriting which was familiar but not quite recognisable. Opening it, she pulled out the short piece of paper. It was from Ash's father, informing her that she, and all her belongings, were to be out of the house by the time they arrived there tomorrow afternoon._

…

"What did you want to be when you were little?" Matthew asked. Mary had just uncovered a short essay, written by a seven-year-old Matthew Crawley, wherein he explained with palpable enthusiasm his ambition to become a policeman. She had laughed and declared that she could hardly think of anybody less suited to dealing with tough, inhumane civilians and handling violent situations than him. He had responded, with a wink, by pointing out that he was currently a City solicitor and he was doing fine at it.

Mary kept her eyes trained on the floor and smiled shyly, which instantly piqued Matthew's curiosity. "I don't remember."

"We both know that you're lying so you may as well come out with it." Matthew said swiftly.

Narrowing her eyes at him, Mary shifted, obviously reluctant to divulge this information. "You'll laugh at me." She said.

"You mean the way you just laughed at me?" Matthew raised his eyebrows. "I promise I won't laugh at you." He said, seeing that his light-hearted remarks weren't making her any more willing to answer his question.

Mary observed him for a moment. He wore his default expression of utter sincerity and trustworthiness. "I wanted to own a crèche. So that I could look after lots of babies and small children." She said confidently, as if daring Matthew to guffaw.

Matthew's expression hardly altered at all; he merely shrugged. "Why would I find that funny? That's a lovely ambition to have had."

"Because…well – isn't it the last job you'd ever expect me to do? Taking care of several small children?" Mary asked, rather taken aback by Matthew's understanding.

"Not really – you were wonderful with those little girls in the dance class. And I know you helped raise Sybil when she was little." Matthew replied matter-of-factly, still not seeing why she was embarrassed by her answer. He supposed that, after they'd first met, it may have shocked him; but after getting to know Mary as well as he had, he didn't for one moment doubt her capacity to care for people.

"Yes…" Mary nodded slowly. She'd expected to have to point those things out to him. "That's actually what had given me the idea of running a crèche – I really enjoyed looking after Sybil. I suppose I'm a bit more motherly than people think I am." She laughed self-consciously. It felt strange to describe herself as 'motherly', when it was so far removed from all the qualities that had got her to where she was in life.

"Of course you're motherly. All you need to be 'motherly' is to be loving and kind and considerate, and you're both those things." Matthew said with such great certainty that Mary blushed.

…

_Matthew had driven to Mary's house to visit her for dinner. As soon as she told him that Ash's parents had demanded that she vacate the house, she regretted it. He looked livid. It was the angriest she'd ever seen him – angrier, even, than when he heard Robert's tirade against her after catching them together. Of course, she'd had to tell him. But perhaps she could have relayed the news more gently?_

_At hearing a string of unforgiving curse-words leave Matthew's mouth, Mary gasped and told him there was no need to be so incensed._

"_Of course there is!" Matthew had shouted back. "Mary, they've kicked you out of your own house!"_

"_Well, Sophie kicked you out of yours!" Mary replied, her own voice rising to match his. She was stressed and confused and he wasn't making her feel any better by being so cross. _

"_Yes, but she wasn't being a total hypocrite!" Matthew argued back, furious at Ash's behaviour and frustrated by Mary's apparent indifference to it. "Plus, what have his parents got to do with anything? They're not part of the marriage - it's not their place to interfere like this and impose their demands on you."_

"_They're the legal owners of the house, Matthew." Mary said, her voice now weary, and she rubbed the back of her hand over her brow. "They're perfectly within their rights to ask me to leave."_

"_But they didn't 'ask' you, did they?" Matthew said bitterly. He couldn't comprehend how they could be so unfeeling, so cruel, and he felt a renewed wave of sympathy for Mary. She'd had to live with them for a while early on in her marriage, he remembered. "Besides, I'm sure it can't be completely within their rights to evict you like that…" He paused to think. "I'll ask the real estate partner about this tomorrow-"_

_Mary rolled her eyes dramatically. "Matthew, what exactly do you want to happen? We'll produce some brilliant argument that shows that they can't make me leave without notice, and then what? I'll stay here, under their roof, with Ash?" She asked rhetorically, and Matthew clenched his jaw. "We've got what we needed – I'm getting a divorce and I'm not living with Ash anymore. Same as you and Sophie."_

"_But it's the principle of it!" Matthew exclaimed._

"_Oh, for God's sake, Matthew," Mary sighed, "please just leave it alone." She looked at him pleadingly. "I'm too tired to argue with you about this." She held her head in her hands, using the base of her palms to massage her eyes._

_The sight and sound of Mary looking so vulnerable banished all feelings of outrage from Matthew's system. He immediately stepped over to her and hugged her, encasing her in his comforting warmth. _

"_I know that they're not very nice, or fair, people, Matthew," Mary mumbled into his chest. "That's precisely why I've been unhappy in the marriage. We can't expect Ash and his parents to treat me badly – or ignore me, at least - during the marriage and then be completely reasonable when they hear that I've been having an affair and want to leave."_

_Matthew bit his tongue as he stroked her back. He still thought it incredibly unjust and refused to grant them any concessions. But he knew that Mary didn't want to argue about them anymore and he could see why forgetting about them, putting them firmly in the past, was probably the best approach to take. "Do you know where you'll go?" He asked softly._

_Mary sighed deeply. "No. I need to be out by tomorrow afternoon, so that doesn't give me very long. I thought of staying with Sybil, because I know she'll be on our side, but I just can't bring myself to explain it all right now. Especially her – she'd be just as vexed as you about Ash and his parents and I'm not sure I can put up with anymore righteousness." She smiled slightly, wrapping her arms more tightly around Matthew's waist. _

_Matthew chuckled and kissed her soft hair. "Stay with me." He suggested._

_Mary raised her head from its resting place to look at him. "What?"_

"_Stay with me." Matthew repeated simply._

"_But you're at your mother's house." Mary said._

"_I know." Matthew shrugged._

_Mary stepped back slightly and looked at Matthew as if he'd lost his mind. "Matthew, you can't turn up at your mother's house unannounced, declare that your marriage is over because you've been having an affair, and then bring round the other woman too, without asking permission, and expect her to be alright with it!" Mary said incredulously. From what she'd heard, Isobel was a very reasonable woman, but this would be pushing it. _

"_Mary, where else could you go?" Matthew asked firmly, trying to make her see sense. Her normal rules of etiquette and waiting to be invited somewhere before turning up did not apply in a situation like this. "I'm not leaving you to find your own place." He said, leaving no room for discussion. "She'll be fine with it." He added to reassure her, seeing the concerned look on her face. He didn't honestly believe that his mother would unquestioningly accept Mary as a lodger in the house, but he knew that the circumstances of Mary's homelessness would appeal to Isobel's unendingly compassionate nature. _

"_Only if you're sure…" Mary said hesitantly. The opinion of Matthew's beloved mother meant a lot to her, and she didn't want to damage her chances of ingratiating herself with her by being a nuisance or a problem. _

"_I'm sure." Matthew said assertively, placing a soft kiss on her lips. _

…

"It's your birthday soon." Matthew reminded Mary quietly. He was lying comfortably upon his bed, Mary at his side. She scoffed.

"Wonderful." She said sarcastically.

"Aren't you looking forward to it? I imagined you to be the sort of person who enjoys their own birthday." Matthew said, his fingers playing with a loose bit of wool on her cardigan – she was wearing one of his old cardigans. It was dark grey and woollen and he'd had it since his final year of university. It was shabby and nowhere near good enough for her, but he thought she looked wonderful in it.

Mary looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. "What does that mean?" She asked.

"Nothing." Matthew replied with faux-innocence. "Just that you're quite happy to be the centre of attention, so-"

"Are you saying that I'm an attention-seeker?" Mary interrupted, slapping his chest.

"Oh, I'm sorry – did you not know?" Matthew said cheekily, laughing when Mary gasped in shock and hit him harder.

"I'm joking! Mary, stop!" He said, laughing even harder now that Mary was ceaselessly hitting and poking his torso.

"Am I hurting you?" She asked eagerly. He had always teased her about her physical weakness and she wanted a chance to prove him wrong.

"You sound as if you _want_ to hurt me." Matthew accused.

"Well, I don't think it's fair that you get to tickle me and sweep me up off the floor anytime I annoy you, but I'm not allowed to do anything back." Mary reasoned.

"But you're much crueller to me than I am to you." Matthew countered, equally serious and considered in his response. He laughed when Mary shrugged her acceptance of his point.

Mary readjusted herself so that she was leaning over him as he lay flat on his back. Her fingers stroked through his hair, eliciting a contented sigh from him, before resting on his cheek and lovingly stroking the clean-shaven skin. Her eyes roamed over his pink lips, his handsome jaw, his brilliantly arresting blue eyes. "You're very beautiful." She whispered, as if telling him a secret.

Matthew's eyes twinkled up at her and he raised his eyebrows in surprise. "That's something you don't hear Mary Crawley say every day." He teased, rubbing her arm fondly.

"Mary Crawley doesn't meet people like you every day." She replied with a smirk, the pad of her thumb still acquainting itself with his cheekbone.

Matthew continued to gaze up at her, wondering how on Earth he had managed to win her. More than that, he wondered how Ash could have let her slip away, let himself push her away, without absolutely despising himself for it. How could he not want to fight for her, to spend the rest of his life doing whatever he could do get her back? How could he not be so desperately in love with her - this wonderful, beautiful creature?

"You're looking at me very seriously." Mary interrupted his thoughts.

Matthew smiled at her. "Would you rather I didn't look at you at all?"

"I would _rather _you kissed me." Mary answered.

Matthew hardly waited a moment before obliging her.

…

_A/N: hope that was alright! I will try to get the next chapter up soon. Probably only two or three chapters left! xxx_


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